


are the stars out tonight

by deathbycoldopen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, Drunk Victor Nikiforov, Drunkenness, Humor, Karaoke, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Phichit is the Best, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Pole Dancing, Sochi Grand Prix Final Banquet, Wingman Phichit Chulanont, figure skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbycoldopen/pseuds/deathbycoldopen
Summary: “Is he always like this?” Viktor asks, but he doesn’t seem to be talking to Yuuri.  Yuuri takes advantage of his distraction and wraps his arms more securely around his neck.“Sober?”  That’s Phichit again.  Ah, Phichit is the best- except right now, Viktor is definitely the Bestest Best, with his cologne and his skating and his hand pressing into Yuuri’s hip.  “Let’s put it this way, if someone tried to touch him like that when he’s sober he’d probably scream and run away.  Although…”  Yuuri peaks out from Viktor’s neck to see Phichit looking contemplative.  Yuuri sticks his tongue out at his friend.  “Maybe if it’s you… His room is covered in posters of you, you know.”“Phichit!” Yuuri shrieks, glaring at him, his former friend, his brother-in-skates, once beloved, now his enemy.***Even with Phichit along to support his rinkmate, not much changes at the Grand Prix Final- Yuuri still crashes and burns, still gets blackout drunk at the banquet, and still has no idea what to do with his career.And yet...In which Viktor is bad at karaoke, Yuuri doesn't know how to people, and having Phichit meddling in their relationship somehow makes everything better and worse at the same time.





	1. Shall We Sing

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: By popular demand, this fic is now a multichap!
> 
> I was just going to do a second chapter and round out the awkward lunch date, but then suddenly Plot Happened and this is now going to be about five chapters. Yay?
> 
> And of course, it wouldn't be a certified Hazel Fic™ without a shitton of pining, so brace yourselves for some terrible communication.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

For some unfathomable reason, the room is _definitely_ upside down.

Okay, maybe not _definitely_.If the room is upside down, then everything is all topsy-turvy isn’t it, and that meant that one can’t be totally sure of anything.Maybe they built the room this way (though Yuuri can’t remember noticing this earlier, which, wouldn’t he have? His memory has sprung a leak on that front, and most other fronts).Maybe this is right way up, and the rest of the universe was upside down.Maybe it’s Maybelline.

He giggles.His abs hurt.

Ow.Why do they hurt?His legs too, but his legs always hurt, and _goddamn_ do his feet always hurt, because he’s an idiot who decided to destroy them for a living.He remembers Minako’s mangled feet and giggles again.

Ouch.

Right, he’s investigating.He lifts his head up- and lifts his head up- and lifts his head up further, wow that’s a long way to lift it, and-

 _Oh_.The room isn’t upside down. _He_ is.

Who knew that pole dancing was such a good workout?

He laughs and lets himself flop back down to look at the upside down room again.There’s blood and champagne rushing to his head and it feels _great_ , he should live like this, always hanging by his thighs while everything is spinning around him.

“ _Yuuri_!” someone says near his head.“I think you can come down now, you already beat me.”

“I did?” Yuuri asks, positively delighted.He doesn’t think he’s beaten anyone today- oh, but who needs to think about _skating_ when there’s _pole dancing_.He squints at the blurry figure.“Chris!” he yells once the two faces converge into one.“Chris I beat you!”He laughs again.It’s fucking _hilarious_.

Chris’ face is still blurry and upside down and spinning.“Do you need help getting down?” he asks, hands already reaching for what is definitely not a let-me-help-you area, no thank you sir.Yuuri swats at his hand and misses.

“Heyyy,” he says.“I know I’m hot stuff but you’d better watch those gropey mcgropers, mister… mister touchy.”

“Mister touchy?”

Yuuri grabs for the pole behind his head.He totally remembers how to get down from here.“Shut up, I can speak Switzerland perfectly fine.”He pauses.“English.I speak English, and Japanese.You’re Switzerland.”

Chris seems to think that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.Yuuri tries to ignore him as he pushes off the pole to flip back to the ground.

His feet fall out from underneath him after he lands, but that’s alright.Minako used to say the floor is his friend, since it will always catch him when he falls.“Hello floor,” he says, patting the floorboards happily.

“Wow, Yuuri, amazing!”

Hmm.That wasn’t Chris, he’s pretty sure.There’s an accent but it’s a different accent- Yuuri can’t tell, he doesn’t speak Switzerland.He looks around- when did all these people get here?Oh, no, they were there before, weren’t they.He squints at the blurry figures.

Phichit.“ _Phichit!_ ”He scrambles to his feet even though they are Not Cooperating like good feet should do.Phichit wasn’t the one who said something- he doesn’t think?- but who cares, because _Phichit_.Phichit is the _best_.

“Yuuri!Great job!” Phichit cheers, holding his phone up.Why is he holding his phone up?

“Are you recording this?Nooooo,” Yuuri says, reaching for the phone and landing on Phichit’s shoulders instead.“No, Phichit, I can’t pole dance on the internet, what if someone sees it-”

“I won’t post it, I promise,” Phichit says, because Phichit’s the Best.Yuuri throws his arms around his best friend.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Phichit,” he mumbles.

“Me too!”

Yuuri shakes his head.“No, no, you don’t understand,” he says.This is important, dammit.“I’m so glad, I wish you’d make it to the Final because then I’d be happy you beat me, but you’re here anyway so I don’t have to be sad about Viktor-”

There’s a person standing next to Phichit, blurry like everyone else- what happened to Yuuri’s glasses?- but the person jumps a little.“Yuuri?Why are you sad about me?” they ask.

The person who talked to him before.He knows that voice from the computer and the TV.“Oh,” he says, squinting.“It’s Viktor.”

He should hug him, right?That’s a good way to greet his idol.He untangles himself from Phichit to drape himself around Viktor instead.Mm, he smells good.

“Yuuri?”

“Not you, Viktor, _my_ Viktor,” Yuuri explains.“Vicchan.Vicchan, like… like little Viktor.Little little Vicchan…”

“His dog,” Phichit says from somewhere in the distance.Yuuri nods into Viktor’s shoulder.“He died just before the free skate.”

“Oh,” Viktor says.Yuuri feels it rumbling in Viktor’s chest and giggles.“Oh Yuuri, I’m so sorry.So that’s why…”

“Ah!But it’s okay!” Yuuri says, lifting his head and beaming at Viktor.His eyes are so _blue_ science can’t explain it.“Now it’s not confusing when you come to coach me!”

Viktor’s arm is around his waist, when did that happen?It squeezes him closer, which is fine by him.More than fine.Definitely perfect.

“Yuuri!” Viktor laughs, so bright and sparkling.“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, I never promised one way or another.I’m still a competitive skater, after all.”

“Olympic gold medalist, five time Grand Prix gold medalist, four time World Champion,” Yuuri rattles off.“I know something else you could be a champion of.”He rolls his hips a little bit to bring the point home, and nuzzles into Viktor’s neck.He can hear Viktor’s breath hitching.

“Is he always like this?” Viktor asks, but he doesn’t seem to be talking to Yuuri.Yuuri takes advantage of his distraction and wraps his arms more securely around his neck.

“Sober?”That’s Phichit again.Ah, Phichit is the best- except right now, Viktor is definitely the Bestest Best, with his cologne and his skating and his hand pressing into Yuuri’s hip.“Let’s put it this way, if someone tried to touch him like that when he’s sober he’d probably scream and run away.”

“Oh.”

“Although…”Yuuri peaks out from Viktor’s neck to see Phichit looking contemplative.Yuuri sticks his tongue out at his friend.“Maybe if it’s _you_ … His room is _covered_ in posters of you, you know.”

“Phichit!” Yuuri shrieks, glaring at him, his former friend, his brother-in-skates, once beloved, now his _enemy_.

“Really?”Viktor sounds _delighted_ , which.Not a bad thing, come to think of it.He doesn’t sound like that in interviews.

“The last time he got drunk, he dragged everyone to karaoke and then sang every single one of your programs, _including_ Stammi Vicino.”

“I like your skating,” Yuuri mumbles, hiding in Viktor’s neck again.

“Yeah?” Viktor says.He tips his head closer to Yuuri.“I like your skating too,” he murmurs, directly into Yuuri’s ear, _wow_.Viktor Nikiforov, Olympic gold medalist, five time Grand Prix gold medalist, four time World Champion, Yuuri’s childhood crush and teenage crush and current crush, is whispering in his ear.

Then he realizes what Viktor just said.

“Nuh uh,” he protests.The perfect comeback.

“Your spins are _amazing_ ,” Viktor Nikiforov says. _Viktor Nikoforov_.“And your step sequences- _god_ , it’s like the music is coming from inside of you.You’re a beautiful dancer Yuuri, really.”

Viktor’s breath smells like the same champagne Yuuri’s been drinking all night (mmm… champagne…).Maybe he’s a little bit drunk as well, that would make sense.More sense than whatever he’s saying about Yuuri’s skating.

“You’ve _seen_ me _skating_?”

Viktor’s eyes are puzzled.Yuuri reaches up to touch the crease between Viktor’s brows.“Of course.I watch all my competitors skate, especially if they’re good enough to make it to the Final.”

“Nooooo,” Yuuri groans.His arms have lost all their strength and everything is still spinning a lot but now it’s not so nice.His knees have stopped working too, and hey, he’s on the floor again, how did that happen?Maybe because Viktor saw his awful awful skating in the final and is complimenting him which definitely means he’s gone insane.

“Yuuri, are you okay?”

There are two different hands- four different hands?- reaching out to him.He takes the first one he sees and lets it haul him back up to his feet.Phichit’s hands.Oh!Phichit’s here, that’s good.

“‘M fine,” he says.“I just need-”

Champagne!Perfect!He stumbles over to the table and drinks directly from the bottle.The bubbles go up his nose a little, but that’s alright.Champagne is _delicious_ , he should share it with everyone.He turns around and squints at the two people next to him.Phichit, and-

 _Viktor Nikiforov_.

“Holy shit it’s Viktor,” he says.Wait, he knew that already.Viktor whispered in his ear before and said he was _beautiful_.“Ahh, Viktor!You should have some champagne, it’s _amazing_!”

He passes the bottle to Viktor, or stumbles into him and he catches the bottle, but either way Viktor is drinking from the same bottle that Yuuri drank out of and a little droplet of champagne is still lingering on his lips and he’s watching Yuuri with his blue fucking eyes.

“Wow,” Yuuri breathes.He leans on Viktor’s shoulder to get a better look at his blue blue _blue_ eyes.

“Oh my god,” someone says nearby.Phichit, right, of course.Yuuri’s being rude, because Phichit is here because he’s Yuuri’s best friend and deserves to get into the GPF and he’s the Best, but Yuuri can’t really look away from Viktor, so…Sucks to be Phichit.“This is _way_ worse than the Karaoke Incident.”

“Karaoke?” Yuuri asks, startled.He hasn’t _seen_ anything that would work for karaoke, but maybe Phichit knows something he doesn’t.“Where’s the karaoke?”

“Not here,” Viktor says, amused.

Phichit is grinning like a disney villain.Phichit looks like he’s plotting something.Phichit has his phone out faster than a cowboy can get his gun.“No, not here…” he says, drawing out the words.“Why, Yuuri, did you want to go to karaoke?”

“Karaoke?”That’s not Phichit or Viktor- Yuuri squints until he makes out the blond hair and no-shirt-wearing.“Sounds like fun, count me in.”

“Chris!” Yuuri says.“We’re gonna karaoke!”

“Ah, _cheri_ , you’ve abandoned me for Viktor yet again?” Chris sighs, draping a hand over his very nice pecs.“You wound me.”

“Your loss, Christophe,” Viktor says with a smirk.His arm is around Yuuri’s waist again.Yuuri is melting, probably.

“Ah, Viktor, I’m going to sing you a karaoke!” Yuuri says.This is definitely happening.He’s a man on a mission, and nothing is going to stop him from doing… something.Right.Karaoke for Viktor Nikiforov.It’s the best plan he’s ever had.

“Oo, karaoke?”One of the ladies singles skaters is nearby- Sala?Sara?Yuuri knows her, probably.“We’re definitely coming to that!”The Russian ladies skater draped over her back whoops loudly, echoed by some other skaters, or maybe coaches or sponsors, or maybe just Yuuri, but who’s counting, really.

“Alright, karaoke it is!” Phichit says cheerfully.“The uber is already on it’s way.”

Yuuri smiles into Viktor’s shoulder.Phichit really is the Best.

* * *

Phichit is the Worst.

Phichit was the one who called the uber and conveniently forgot to specify how many seats they needed- with Mila and Sara tagging along, they definitely need more than just a sedan.Phichit was the one who claimed the front seat (“Since I’m paying for it,” he’d said, wiggling his eyebrows way too suggestively for a nineteen year old.Viktor feels old just _looking_ at him).Phichit was the one who said _oh so casually_ that the karaoke bar isn’t too far away, so Mila can sit on Sara’s lap and Yuuri can sit on Viktor’s.Phichit is the one who _winked_ at Viktor right he stepped into the spacious and not-at-all-compromising front seat.

So yeah, it’s definitely Phichit’s fault that Viktor now has a lapful of the sexiest, most adorable man on the planet, who’s currently drunk off his ass but can still dance a perfect paso doble and a freaking _pole dance_ , whose step sequences and lyricism are out of this world, who has posters of Viktor and smiles like the sun and is _currently writhing on Viktor’s lap holy shit_.

In conclusion, Phichit = The Worst.

“Viktorrr,” Yuuri says, tilting his head back so that it’s resting on Viktor’s shoulder, his cheek pressed against Viktor’s neck.“Are you going to sing with me?”

Viktor shakes his head.“I’m not a very good singer,” he says.

He can’t really see Yuuri’s face from this angle, but he _feels_ Yuuri’s mouth drop open.“ _What_?But- the Prazdnik Ice Show-”

“Ah,” Viktor says with a sheepish laugh.“I, uh, had a voice double.”

“You did?”

He’s not really sure why he’s admitting this to an almost complete stranger, but, well.He’s not sure he’s entirely sober either, and Yuuri is _extremely_ attractive.“Lip synced the whole thing,” he says.

“Ahh, you should have heard him practicing before they found the voice double,” Chris butts in, leaning in- not that he needs to, with how cramped the car is.He puts his hand on Yuuri’s knee.Viktor just barely stops himself from growling possessively, and settles for glaring instead.

“You’ve never even heard me sing,” he says.

Chris tilts his head in surprise, but then- oh no- his eyes widen in understanding.“ _A little defensive, aren’t we?_ ” he asks in French.Viktor glances around, but it seems like they’re the only two in the car who speak the language.Well, Sara could probably figure it out, but she and Mila are happily gossiping about one thing or another.“ _Are you scared a little competition is going to steal this darling boy’s affections away?_ ”

Viktor feels himself blushing, even more so when Yuuri sits up a little to frown at Chris.“ _As if I’m that petty_ ,” Viktor replies.

Oh, he definitely is.Especially when Yuuri looks so adorably confused.

“Too many languages,” Yuuri complains.He taps Viktor on the cheek, rather like a teacher reprimanding a disobedient student.“En-ge-li-shu, Viktor.What are you saying?”

He’s saved from having to answer when the breaks squeal and Yuuri lights up.“Ah, we’re here!” he says, scrambling for the door handle and squirming a little in Viktor’s lap.Viktor swallows.“Viktor, you have to sing with me, okay?”

Viktor isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when Yuuri manages to open the door and tumbles off of his lap.“I’d have to be a lot drunker to get up on stage,” he says.

Shit.Yuuri’s eyes light up with newfound determination.

Viktor won’t be surviving the night.

* * *

Everything is _amazing_.

“Yuuuuuri~” Viktor says, plopping down on the seat next to his- his?New best friend?New student?New love-of-his-life?He’s not sure there’s a word for this feeling yet, the bubbling and bouncing and warm happiness burning in him.“Wait, Yuuri, why are you laughing?”

Oh, but that laughter is infectious, pure joy brought to life.Yuuri laughs like there’s nothing else in the world, laughs with his whole body and heart and soul.The tremors travel up through Viktor’s arm where he’s leaning against him.Viktor can’t help it- laughter bubbles up in his throat, a fucking _giggle_ like a twelve year old girl.

Viktor doesn’t giggle.Not even after four shots- five shots? eight? counting is hard- and half a bottle of champagne.The last time he was drunk, he- what did he do?Slept with- no wait.Last time he’d locked himself in the bathroom and cried in the bathtub.

The laughter keeps coming.It’s almost suffocating how good it feels.

“ _Yuuri_!” he says, trying to catch his breath.Yuuri presses his face into Viktor’s shoulder, muffling the laughter but making it _that much harder_ for Viktor to stop, dammit Yuuri- “I wasn’t _that_ bad!”

Yuuri shakes his head, still laughing helplessly.“ _So bad_ , Viktor,” he giggles.The alcohol and his laughter bring out his accent so that he says Viktor’s name in four separate syllables. _Vi-ku-to-re_.

Say it again, _please_.

“Your singing, it sounds like- ah, what’s the English- like a drowning cat?”Yuuri adds something rapid and slurring in Japanese.His eyes are almost brighter than the stage lights, like stars or galaxies all on their own.

He leans forward and says something else.Maybe in Japanese still, maybe in English.The words are distant anyway.The only thing in the world are Yuuri’s eyes.Viktor doesn’t know what color they are- not brown, surely, not something so pedestrian sounding for something so perfect.And then- oh, but Yuuri’s lips are moving, and he’s just as stuck trying to describe them as well.Something about flower petals and etherial beauty-

“-Viktor?”

Viktor blinks.“Huh?”Someone’s hand is waving in front of his eyes, blocking his view of Yuuri.How rude, considering he hadn’t finished discovering all the quirks and details of Yuuri’s features yet, hadn’t examined every inch of the work of art that is Katsuki Yuuri.He glances over his shoulder and frowns at Chris.“What?” he asks crossly.

Chris is laughing too, but it’s not as nice as Yuuri’s laugh.Viktor turns back to watch Yuuri instead- much more interesting- but Chris taps him on the shoulder.

“I _said_ , do you want to do a duet with me?” Chris asks

Yuuri bursts out laughing again, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the universe.Viktor snorts, tries to cover it with a cough, and then chokes on his own laughter.

Chris just looks confused.

“You want a duet with _him_?” Yuuri says.“Chri-su, he needed a _voice double_.A _voice double_.”

“Hey!” Viktor says.Yuuri’s arms are winding around his neck and it’s _very_ distracting, okay, but he knows when he should be offended.“You should know that I-”

Yuuri claps a hand over his mouth.He might be having a heart attack.“Shh!” Yuuri says.“Phichit’s up!”He doesn’t move his hand from Viktor’s mouth.

Phichit steps onto the miniature stage and flashes a heart at them.They wave and cheer for their fellow skater- until the first few notes of the song start playing.

“No!King and the Skater, really?” Viktor groans into Yuuri’s hand.Georgi used this for his short program a few years ago, and that American skater only last season, and- “Why would he do this to us?”Phichit really is the Worst.

“Aww, be nice,” Mila says from somewhere behind him.Her arms loop around him as she rests her chin on the top of her head.Onstage, Phichit is bowing, then launching into a dance at the instrumentals- a shockingly well choreographed dance.“It’s the kid’s favorite movie.”

“Kid?He’s older than you, Milotchka,” Viktor says.She slaps him on the shoulder.

Chris opens his mouth to say something, but Yuuri sits up excitedly, drawing all attention to him.It’s inevitable, because when he lights up like that- you can’t take your eyes off him.Or at least, Viktor can’t.

“Here it comes- _SHALL WE SKATE!_ ” Yuuri shouts with the music.Phichit punches the air and belts into the mic.“C’mon,” Yuuri tells the rest of them with a wavering glare.“We have to represent the skating world.”

Nobody else in the crowded bar seems to know “Shall We Skate” enough to sing along, but that doesn’t deter Yuuri from shouting along with Phichit and glaring at everyone else until they did the same.Which was how six highly well-known professional athletes end up belting out every single word to a song from an off-off-broadway musical.

“ _Shall we skate!_ ” Viktor shouts along with everyone else.He laughs when Phichit grabs Yuuri’s arm and pulls him up onstage with him; laughs harder when they do a convoluted dance routine that ends with Phichit trying to lift Yuuri and nearly dropping him; can’t stop laughing when Phichit ends the song by doing a split jump right off the stage.

The laughter dies in his throat when Yuuri leans down and murmurs something to the DJ.His hair is a complete mess, half standing and half flattened by the tie he’s wrapped around his head like a headband; the buttons on his shirt are done wrong where they’re done at all; his face is flushed all the way down his neck and his chest.

A bead of sweat drips down Viktor’s temple.He doesn’t remember it being this hot in here, why did they turn up the heat?And dry, why is it so dry?He swallows, grabs an unattended drink and downs it, swallows again.

Yuuri hops off the stage while the DJ prepares whatever song he’d requested.He looks almost like he’s on fire as he walks toward Viktor- or maybe it’s just the light bringing out the burning in his eyes.He doesn’t stop when he reaches Viktor, and suddenly Yuuri is _straddling him_ , their foreheads pressed together.

“Watch me, Viktor,” he whispers.Their faces are so close that Viktor can feel Yuuri’s breath caressing his lips.“Don’t you dare take your eyes off me.”

And then he’s gone, before Viktor can do anything impulsive like kiss him or propose.All he can do is stare as Yuuri jumps back onto the stage and grabs the mic.Even if Yuuri hadn’t said anything, Viktor would never be able to look away.

The first notes hit him like a freight train, like a fall on a triple axel, like a- like a- like something else that punches all the air out of his chest and spins the room dizzyingly around him.He knows this song intimately, knows it because he skated to it ten years ago, young and determined and just out of juniors.It had been his declaration to the world, that breaking records in juniors was just the start.

Yuuri looks at him and starts to sing.

_Can you hear my heart beat?_

Viktor can’t breathe.He doesn’t want to breathe.Breathing would mean he would miss Yuuri’s singing, Yuuri singing _to him_ , Yuuri singing the first song Viktor ever choreographed himself.This song had been Viktor’s declaration to the skating world to watch for him- but the way Yuuri is singing it.The way Yuuri is _singing_.

It’s an invitation.

_Yes we were born to make history!_

“Fuck,” he whispers.“I’m in love.”

* * *

Phichit whistles as he walks down the hallway back to the hotel room, a tray of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.It really is a beautiful day outside- okay, far too chilly for a kid from Bangkok, but it’s practically balmy compared to Detroit right now.He sighs, sparing a thought for Decembers back in Thailand, where going inside the rink is a relief from the heat and humidity rather than just more of the same cold air.

He jolts from his thoughts when his phone buzzes.He checks the screen- Instagram notifications, apparently.He has them set to go off in bundles rather than with each separate like and comment, since he gets so many (yes, he _is_ that popular, thank you very much).It looks like the notifications are all from stuff he posted last night, which- alright, so he doesn’t _exactly_ remember what he ended up posting, since Yuuri was feeling drunkenly generous and bought at least four rounds of shots for everyone.He’ll have to go through the posts later, when he has a free hand to sign in.

“Rise and shine!” he says cheerfully as he shoulders his way into their hotel room.He doesn’t even have to see the bed yet to know that there’s a Yuuri-shaped lump under the blankets, even though it’s past noon.He sighs.He doesn’t know how Yuuri would survive without him, to be perfectly honest.

“Yuuri!” he calls, too loud for his own slight headache.Anything less won’t have any effect whatsoever, though, so he perseveres.“C’mon, it’s a new day!Or it was six hours ago, anyway.Up, up, up!”

“Mmph,” is all he gets for his efforts.It’s encouraging, though- it means Yuuri didn’t succumb to alcohol poisoning after all.

“Yuuuuri,” Phichit says.He sets the coffees down and kneels on the bed next to the lump.“ _Yuuuuuuri_ , it’s past noon.Celestino’s gonna think you died.”

That earns him a minuscule shift under the blankets.“Nuhtrnnnndy,” Yuuri mumbles.

“Huh?Sorry, I don’t speak hungover English.”

Yuuri groans.He wriggles until his head pops out from the blanket cocoon, his eyes still firmly shut.“No training t’day," he says, only slightly more coherently.“Don’t need to skate if ‘m last place.”

“Last place at the _Grand Prix Final_ , Yuuri,” Phichit reminds him, for about the billionth time.“I didn’t even qualify, remember?”

Yuuri just grunts again.Phichit sighs.Normally he has all the patience in the world to deal with Yuuri’s anxiety, but right now his head is throbbing a little bit and really, it can’t be good for Yuuri to just lie there wallowing.“Alright, that’s it,” he says.Before Yuuri can even register what’s happening, Phichit grabs the sheet out from underneath Yuuri and tugs it upward with all of his not-inconsiderable strength.

Yuuri, too sleep-addled to react, rolls off the bed completely and hits the floor with a hard _smack_.

“ _Ow,_ Phichit!”

“Serves you right for moping.Now, I’m gonna fix my eyeliner, but you better be ready to go by the time I’m back.”

Yuuri groans and clambers back onto the bed.It’s about fifty-fifty that he’ll just fall right back asleep- wait, scratch that, forty-sixty, since he just grabbed the coffee.Not great odds still, but hey, at least it’s progress.

Phichit grabs his own cup of coffee and heads into the bathroom.He flinches when he turns the lights on.Whoever thought fluorescent lights in a bathroom were a good idea?Every hotel he’s ever been in, that’s who, and every single one deserves to be torn down for their crimes.He makes a face at himself and opens his makeup bag.Might as well do a full makeup if the bags under his eyes are as bad as that.

His phone buzzes while he’s painstakingly sweeping eyeliner into an almost-perfect wing.He ignores it for the moment.If he messes up now he’ll have to redo the entire eye.

There.Not quite a mirror image of the other eye, but close enough that nobody is going to notice, especially if he uses X-Pro II for the day’s Instas.

His phone buzzes again.He sighs and picks it up- it’s a lot of work being, he supposes- and then nearly drops it into the sink.

> **Viktor (!!!!!!!!!!!)  
>  ** so can i have yuuri’s number??? ヽ(o♡o)/  
>  srsly phichit i’m begging you

Viktor Nikiforov. _Viktor Nikiforov_ , is texting him.Viktor Nikiforov, famousest of all figure skaters, most winning winner who ever won, is texting him.

Viktor Nikiforov wants Yuuri’s number.

And- oh.

 _Fuck_.Phichit just remembered what he posted to Insta last night.

“Umm, Yuuri?” he calls hesitantly.

No answer.Maybe Yuuri really did just go back to sleep.Five minutes ago Phichit would have been annoyed, but right now it sounds like the best case scenario.He can just go right to Instagram and delete the post, and pray that none of his followers have spread it to Twitter or Facebook- it’s probably all over Golden Skate and other skating forums already, _fuck_.

New plan: never let Yuuri go on the internet ever again.

He shoves his phone into his pocket for now.He’ll deal with Viktor- _Viktor Nikifororv_ \- in a minute.First he has some preemptive groveling to do.

“Yuuri?” he says, edging back into the room. _Please be asleep please be asleep please be asleep_ -

Shit.Yuuri is _not_ , in fact, asleep.Yuuri is very much awake.Yuuri is awake, sitting up, and drinking coffee.Or at least, he’s holding the coffee cup halfway to his lips.Because at this moment, Yuuri is sitting frozen with his eyes glued to his phone.

 _Shiiiiiiiiiit_.

Phichit sidles up next to his friend.Yup, that’s definitely Instagram open on Yuuri’s phone, and yup, that’s definitely Phichit’s account, fuck, Yuuri is going to kill him, fuck fuck fuck-

Wait.

He squints at the picture he uploaded.It’s blurry and pixelated, the bar’s lighting doing nothing for his phone’s camera, but it looks like-

Oh, _thank god_.

He’d been taking so many pictures last night that he must have tapped the wrong one when he was uploading it.This _wasn’t_ the picture he’d meant to post, praise Jesus halleluia thank the Buddha and the Gods of Insta, he’s been saved by his own drunkenness.He almost cries in relief.

Yuuri looks like he’s about to cry for a different reason.

“Phichit?” he asks, his voice quieter than the hum of the hotel fan.

“Yeah?”

Yuuri still hasn’t moved.Phichit is starting to get worried.Maybe he’s had a stroke or something.“Did…” Yuuri begins, then trails off like he has no idea how to finish the sentence.Phichit swallows.“Did I… _sing_ to Viktor Nikiforov last night?”

“Uhh…”

“Where even is this?” Yuuri asks, his voice climbing in pitch with each word.“How did we- what even _happened_??”

Shit.Phichit’s phone is burning a hole in his pocket, Viktor’s texts still sitting there unanswered.“You don’t remember?”

Yuuri shakes his head.“I…I remember getting to the banquet?” he says hesitantly.“There was champagne.A lot of it.”

The whole night.The _whole night_ , Yuuri was blacked out.Phichit doesn’t know whether he should be impressed or worried.“Um, yeah,” he says.“You, uh, you got pretty wasted.You started challenging people to dance offs-” hmm, maybe he should skip the pole dancing thing- “and then you decided you wanted to go to karaoke?There was a big group of us who went, Chris and Mila and Sara-”

“And Viktor,” Yuuri whispers.

“Breathe,” Phichit reminds him in alarm.“Yeah, Viktor came.You two were getting along like a house on fire, so I think he would’ve gone anywhere with you, but.Yeah.”Yuuri’s face went, if possible, even paler.Maybe Phichit shouldn’t have said that.But it wasn’t like it wasn’t staring Yuuri right in the face, anyway.It’s obvious in Phichit’s Insta post how infatuated Viktor is, half standing out of his seat while Yuuri sings to him with bedroom eyes.Even with the shitty image quality, Phichit can see that Viktor’s knuckles are white where he’s gripping the arm of his chair.

Phichit glances at Yuuri.As soon as he has a second, he’s deleting that other picture from his phone.The one he’d taken just a few seconds after the one he’d posted, the one he’d _meant_ to post in the first place.The one where Viktor had jumped up on stage with Yuuri and kissed him full on the mouth.

Yuuri must never know, or he might actually have a heart attack.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Yuuri whimpers.He finally breaks his impression of a horrified statue and drops his head into his hands.“Oh God, I can’t believe- he must think I’m _insane-_ ”

“Whoa there,” Phichit says, raising his eyebrows.“Viktor doesn’t think you’re insane.He asked for your number, after all.”

“He _what_?” Yuuri yells, jerking upright to stare at Phichit with wide, bloodshot eyes.

“I didn’t give it to him,” Phichit says.“You were really drunk, I knew you’d feel embarrassed about it in the morning.I did get _his_ number, though, so if you wanted to call him…”

Yuuri flinches.He holds his head again, withdrawing into himself and whispering something like _oh god oh god oh god_.It can’t be good for his hangover.

Phichit nudges his arm.He shoves him a little harder when Yuuri doesn’t move, earning him a panicked glare.“C’mon, you’ll feel better after you eat something,” Phichit says firmly.“Anything you want, my treat.”When Yuuri doesn’t look convinced, Phichit wraps his arms around his friend.“Seriously, it’s going to be fine,” he says quietly.He can feel Yuuri’s breath coming a little too quickly, and tries to model slow, deep breaths for him.“At lunch I’ll show you all the embarrassing pictures I took of Chris and Sara singing a duet.I think I even have a video of Viktor trying to sing.Badly.”

Yuuri is still tense underneath him, but his breathing slows down and he nods.“Alright,” he says.He twists awkwardly to return the hug.“I’m just gonna…” he says vaguely, gesturing at the bathroom.Phichit nods and releases him.

As soon as Yuuri disappears into the bathroom, Phichit whips out his phone.He finds the pictures of Viktor and Yuuri making out on stage- all six of them, damn was he lucky he picked the wrong one- and deletes them immediately.He almost deletes the ones of Yuuri and Chris pole dancing, but-Well.Nothing wrong with hanging on to those for some unforeseen circumstance.

Housekeeping done, he opens his messenger app.He still can’t really believe he has _Viktor Nikiforov_ ’s phone number.

> **Me  
> ** suuuuup viktor  
>  sorry to say but yuuri doesn’t remember  
>  like, anything

Viktor answers immediately.Phichit has to wonder if he’s been staring at his messages this whole time, waiting for Phichit to reply.Before last night, he would have dismissed it as unlikely from someone like Viktor, but now…Yeah, Viktor’s definitely just been staring at his phone.

> **Viktor (!!!!!!!!!!!)  
>  ** whaaaat????? nothing at all??????? (ㄒoㄒ)
> 
> **Me  
>  ** he tends to black out when he drinks
> 
> **Viktor (!!!!!!!!!!!)  
>  ** (((((((((((
> 
> **Me  
>  ** sorry bro

Phichit hesitates.It’s not like it’s his _job_ to get these two together.If Viktor is as sure about this as he seems, then it won’t be _that hard_ for him to get a hold of Yuuri and work this out.Plus, he definitely doesn’t want to overwhelm Yuuri when to guy was about a heartbeat away from a panic attack not two minutes ago.He really, _really_ shouldn’t get involved in this mess.

But then again…

> **Me  
> ** yuuri still likes u tho  
>  we’re heading to lunch, wanna come? ( ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:·ﾟ✧
> 
> **Viktor (!!!!!!!!!!!)  
>  **!!!!!!!!! yes!!!!!!!!!!! ))))))
> 
> **Me  
>  ** hotel restaurant, 10 minutes (＾▽＾)

He hears the bathroom door open and shoves his phone into his pocket before he sees Viktor’s response.Yuuri looks slightly less panicked, which is definitely a good sign since Phichit somehow just signed him up for the surprise of a lifetime.“Ready to go?” Phichit asks, hopefully more casually than he feels.

“Mm,” Yuuri says absently, grabbing a thick, comfortable jumper and pulling it over his head.Phichit almost tells him to wear something sexier, then restrains himself.If Yuuri finds out Viktor is joining them, he’ll never leave this room ever again.

“Alright, pre-lunch selfie!” Phichit says, opening Insta and holding out his phone.He manages to catch Yuuri with a fond but exasperated glare, while he grins wide at the camera.With the right filter, his eyeliner is on _point_.“Let’s go!” he says cheerfully as he taps out a caption. _You wish you were as cool as me and @ykatsuki #grandprixfinal #mybestfriend #watchoutsochi._ Perfect.

Yuuri leads the way out of the room, which is good.It means he doesn’t see that _v-nikiforov_ is the first person to like the selfie, and the first to comment.

> **v-nikiforov  
>  ** (。♥‿♥。)

Phichit sighs.He isn’t sure how he ended up playing matchmaker to his best friend and Russia’s living legend, and yet here he is.He can only hope Yuuri doesn’t kill him before he has a chance to make out with his childhood crush- sober, this time.

And hey, if Phichit gets the chance to pick Viktor Nikiforov’s brain about how to best land his quad toe, well.He never claimed to be completely selfless.


	2. I fooled around (and fell in love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song of the same name by Elvin Bishop.
> 
> This chapter turned out so. much. longer. than I was expecting oh my god

Viktor winces as he swallows down two painkillers.His throat was still raw from last night, because he’s an idiot.A singing idiot, apparently.How on earth had anyone convinced him to _sing_?

Fine, he knows how.He’d probably do it sober if Yuuri asked him to.

 _Yuuri_.Even just thinking his name was enough to make his heart start pounding- a little painfully, considering his headache.He hadn’t been lying when he told Yuuri he likes his skating, admires his musicality and footwork- but really, before yesterday he hadn’t really given him much thought beyond that.Hadn’t even seen any of Yuuri’s interviews, because if he had he’d probably have started chasing after him a long time ago.

He’s definitely paying attention now.He spent all morning watching videos of Yuuri skating, interviews in English and in Japanese, even that weird ad where Yuuri is inexplicably dancing inside a large block of foam cheese.If he hadn’t gotten the text from Phichit, he’d probably still be doing that- is that creepy?It’s probably creepy- except Phichit said last night that Yuuri had posters of Viktor all over his room, so maybe it’s okay.

He sighs and turns back to the task at hand.He only has ten minutes before he’s supposed to meet them- meet _Yuuri_ \- down at the hotel restaurant, and he’s still wearing the hotel robe after his shower.Not exactly the kind of first (sober) impression he wants to make.

Although… he does have a nice body.And if things go well, he might be taking all his clothes off again in the very near future, so maybe he could just wear the robe, dazzle Yuuri with his sculpted muscles-

Okay, no, bad idea.The restaurant wouldn’t look too kindly on public nudity, even if he is Russia’s darling.Besides, Phichit would be there, and Viktor didn’t want to accidentally seduce Yuuri’s friend as well.

So, clothes then.Which brings him back to his original dilemma of what on earth he should _wear_.

The problem is that he packed for a competition, not a date.The problem is that before last night, he would have laughed in your face if you suggested he’d feel this excited and anxious to see another person.The _problem_ is that he’s been in a funk for months, so aside from his skating costumes and his workout clothes, he just threw whatever was closest to him into his suitcase and called it a day.He’d gone out and _bought_ a suit for the banquet, for fuck’s sake.

So.Does he wear the lumpy jumper, the fire engine red skinny jeans he’s never even tried on, the muscle shirt, or the rumpled remains of yesterday’s suit?

He glances at his phone and sweats.12:38.He has exactly two minutes to decide, get dressed, and get down to the hotel restaurant.He doesn’t want to risk being late, and miss out on his chance to see Yuuri again.  Who knows when they’ll even be in the same country after this?Worlds?That's in three months- he doesn’t want to wait that long before hearing Yuuri laugh again.

He decides on the jumper, the shirt from yesterday, and the jeans he’d worn on the plane.The jumper is- well, it’s comfortable at least, and with the collar of his shirt poking out and the sleeves rolled up, it looks almost- but not quite- debonair.It will have to do.He just hopes Yuuri doesn’t judge him for looking like a mess compared to the polished, straight-off-the-mannequin look he’d worn to the banquet.

The banquet which Yuuri apparently doesn’t even remember.

Viktor pauses with his hand on the doorknob.He’d been avoiding thinking about Phichit’s text, but…If Yuuri really doesn’t remember, will he even want to see Viktor?They’ve only ever exchanged a few words aside from last night- they’re practically strangers, even with one drunken night of happiness.Phichit said Yuuri is a fan, but Viktor knows all too well that he’s nothing like the man he pretends to be for the press.He’s shallow and petty and selfish, and altogether too blunt for polite society.Maybe Yuuri won’t like that Viktor, the real Viktor.It’s hard to think of anyone who would.

No, stop.He grits his teeth and opens the door.If he can make the press drool all over him with a bat of an eyelash two seconds after he accidentally insulted them, he can win Yuuri over as well.He can do this.

He hurries down to the hotel restaurant, hoping it won’t matter that he’s a few minutes late.In all his debating over his outfit, he forgot that the hotel is huge, especially since he always insists on getting a penthouse suite.Usually the luxury is worth the extra money, but when it puts another three minutes between him and Yuuri, he has to wonder if his priorities need to change.

“How can I help you, Mr. Nikiforov?” the hostess asks him smoothly as soon as he comes through the restaurant door.Of course she knows exactly who he is- in a hotel in Russian currently swarming with professional skaters, not a single member of the staff hasn’t greeted him by name.

He drags up his charm-the-fans smile for her.“Yes, hi, I’m meeting some friends for lunch- Phichit Chulanont and Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Of course,” she says, checking her computer before giving him a professional smile.“Right this way.”

He wonders if she can hear how loudly his heart is pounding as she leads him through the restaurant.It’s not crowded- this place isn’t even three stars, and there are much better lunch prospects within walking distance- and so he sees Phichit and Yuuri before he’s even halfway through the restaurant.

 _Yuuri_.

“Ah- I see them now, thank you,” he tells the hostess.She barely bats an eyelid, even though he’s pretty sure she’s supposed to lead him all the way to seat him.

“Enjoy,” she says, handing him his menu and making her way back to the hostess stand.

He’s glad she left- he’d hate to make her wait because he’s meeting his new crush, and said crush looks _amazing_.He can barely force himself to keep walking.Yuuri’s bangs are in his eyes, his glasses obscuring his face further, and he looks so soft in his own jumper that Viktor actually feels jealous of a piece of clothing.

Maybe he should have gone with the bathrobe idea after all.

He shakes his head and steels himself.He can do this.He’s charmed half the world with just a smile, and had the rest eating out of the palm of his hand with a wink.He’s Viktor Nikiforov, he can get one amazing, adorable, talented, sexy skater to like him back.He can do this.

He plops down in the empty seat next to Yuuri and smiles.“Good morning!” he says cheerfully.

Yuuri jumps in his seat.His beautiful brown eyes meet Viktor’s- _wow_ \- and all the blood drains from his face.He doesn’t say a word.Viktor isn’t entirely sure he’s still _breathing_.

Okay.It’s not exactly the reaction he was expecting, but he can work with it.

“Viktor!” Phichit says.“Fancy seeing you here!”

Viktor barely manages to turn away from Yuuri to frown at Phichit.Phichit was the one who invited him- or did he misunderstand?It wouldn’t be the first time Viktor let his excitement overcome logic and silly things like invitations.“Um, yeah,” he says.He hears Yuuri exhale softly, but when he glances back at him, he’s still frozen.“I had a lot of fun last night,” Viktor purrs, leaning a little closer.

Yuuri finally moves- _away_ from Viktor.Fuck.“Eh?” Yuuri squeaks.

Not at all encouraging.

“Ah, we did too!” Phichit says, a little too loudly.Viktor stares at him.He looks almost panicked, although not nearly as much as Yuuri.He’s starting to feel a little uncertain, like he’s missing something.Sure, Phichit said that Yuuri doesn’t remember the night before, but he’d also said that Yuuri still liked him.Except Yuuri is leaning away from him like the air around him is toxic, and Phichit looks like if he had the power to disappear in a puff of smoke, he would.

What the hell?

Viktor opens his mouth to say something along those lines, but the waitress arrives at that exact moment.“Welcome to Rachmaninoff Cafe,” she says in accented English.“My name is Ana, I’ll be your server this afternoon.Can I get you started with any drinks?”

“Cappuccino, please,” Viktor says in Russian, smiling at her.“And a glass of water as well.”

“Of course, Mr. Nikiforov,” she responds in the same language.She notes it on her pad and looks at Yuuri for his order.

Yuuri just stares at her silently.Viktor is starting to get worried that there’s something medically wrong with him.

“Ah, we’ll both have quad shot lattes,” Phichit cuts in.She nods and smiles, then leaves them to their previous awkwardness.

Phichit smiles weakly at Viktor.“What a night, huh?” he says.“Are all GPF Banquets that wild, or was that an exception?”

“No, they’re usually quite boring,” Viktor says.“Maybe we can make this a new tradition.What do you think, Yuuri?”

Yuuri meets his eyes, opens his mouth, and promptly chokes on nothing.“Um?” he croaks.He abruptly shoves his chair back and gets to his feet.“Um,” he says again.“I-I have to go.”

“Wait-”

Yuuri is gone before Viktor can get the rest of his sentence out.He and Phichit stare as he runs away- and then Phichit is leaping to his feet as well.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says.“I’ll be right back.”

And then Viktor is alone at the table.

He sits back in his chair, rubbing at his chest.There’s an ache somewhere in his ribcage, and it seems to be getting worse the further away Yuuri hurries.Drunk, Yuuri had been all over him, clinging to his neck and whispering dirty things in his ear.Sober, it seems like Yuuri wants nothing to do with him.No wonder Phichit didn’t want to give him Yuuri’s number last night, if the gulf between drunk and sober Yuuri is so wide.

Maybe he should just leave, give up before it hurts any more than it already does.

The waitress stops by with the drinks, and murmurs that she’ll give them a few more minutes before they order.He thanks her absently, gaze fixed on when Phichit has finally caught up to Yuuri.

Yuuri looks angry.He glares at Phichit and hisses something that makes Phichit hold out his hands in a placating gesture.The anger in Yuuri’s expression eases slightly as Phichit talks to him, but it doesn’t disappear completely.Eventually, he nods and leaves, not out the front of the restaurant, but toward the bathroom, glowering at the floor.

Viktor swallows and tries to still the trembling in his hands.

Phichit makes his way back to the table- _without_ Yuuri, Viktor can’t help but think with a tinge of bitterness.He smiles apologetically when he sees Viktor staring.

“Sorry about that,” he says, sliding back into his seat.

Viktor fidgets with his napkin, rubbing the cloth between his fingers just to have something to do.“What was all that about?” he asks, clinging to an air of nonchalance.

Phichit sighs.“Yuuri is… he doesn’t deal with surprises very well,” he says ruefully.“Sorry, this is my fault.I didn’t tell him you were coming to lunch- I _thought_ it would be easier this way.”

“Easier,” Viktor says flatly.

“Well, if I’d told him you were coming, he probably wouldn’t have shown up at all,” Phichit says casually, as if he _isn’t_ breaking Viktor’s heart in half.

“I- I see,” Viktor mumbles.  He should just go, back to his lonely and impersonal hotel room, his lonely and impersonal flat in Saint Petersberg, his lonely and impersonal life.

Phichit seems to realize what he said.His eyes widen and he sputters a little.“Not- not because he doesn’t want to see you!” he says.“He’s just a little… intimidated, I guess?He’s looked up to you almost his whole life.”

“Oh?”

“I told you about the posters, didn’t I?” Phichit says, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“And the karaoke,” Viktor says, remembering what led them to the karaoke bar in the first place.He’s starting to feel a little more hopeful now.  Yuuri being  _intimidated_ by him is better than Yuuri  _hating_ him, anyway.

“He’s also got a whole box in his closet full of letters he writes to you and then never sends,” Phichit says.“I’ve seen some in there from when he was twelve years old and he couldn’t even speak English yet.”

“Really?” Viktor asks, delighted.He wonders if Yuuri ever did send him anything, if he ever saw a letter from one of his fans and never realized it was from the most amazing man he’d ever meet.

“Don’t worry,” Phichit says.“He’ll come back in a few minutes.I think he just needed a second to breathe into a paper bag because his idol said hello.”

Viktor leans back in his seat, relaxing a little.There’s still an ache in his chest, and a tension riding in his shoulders, but he can deal with it.He can be the perfect Viktor Nikiforov, eligible bachelor and heartthrob, Yuuri’s longtime idol.He’d performed in countless competitions and exhibitions, but this is going to be the most important performance of his entire life, and he's coming out with a gold medal named Yuuri.

* * *

 

Yuuri splashes water on his face in a vain attempt to cool his cheeks.All it really accomplishes is getting water all over his sweater and his hair, with a minimal amount even touching his face.

“Crap,” he mutters.He fumbles his glasses back on and looks for some paper towels to clean up, but the restaurant bathroom only has hand dryers.Maybe he could try to bend down underneath it- no.Bad idea.It would be just his luck today to be awkwardly crouching underneath a hand dryer only for Viktor to walk in on him.

Oh, God.

Viktor Nikiforov is sitting at the table with Phichit.

 _Viktor Nikiforov_.

He closes his eyes and tries to focus on his breathing.In, out, in, out, in, Viktor leaning forward and smiling at him, in in _in_ -

He chokes, and forces himself to exhale.He needs to get a goddamn grip.It’s not like this is the first time Viktor has ever spoken to him.It’s not even the first time Viktor has spoken to him since he crashed and burned at the Final- and apparently, they were quite friendly the night before, if Phichit’s pictures are to be believed.

In, out.In, out.He is _not_ going to have a panic attack about this.

If only he could _remember_ what happened, maybe it wouldn’t feel like someone dropped a building on top of him.He wracks his brain, struggling to remember something, _anything_.The night isn’t completely gone- there are flashes, images that are impossible to distinguish from dreams.He thinks maybe he’d been dancing, which would explain the sore muscles that were fine yesterday.He might have been laughing about a drowning cat- that makes no sense, so maybe not.And there’s that fleeting impression, the feeling of someone’s lips pressed against his.That one he knows is a dream, though.  Even if he doesn't have much sense when he's drunk, Phichit would have told him if he made out with someone.

He groans and drops his head into his hands.Whatever happened last night, it was enough that Viktor is now acting like his new best friend.It’s like a _dream_ for Viktor to want to talk to him at all, and Yuuri can’t even remember what he did to earn that attention.And if he can’t remember what he did, he has no hope of imitating his drunken self to _keep_ Viktor’s attention.

Whoever Viktor met last night, the person he’d been hoping to find this morning, it’s not Yuuri.Above everything else, that’s what is sending his heart into a panic, his lungs gasping for air.Viktor will be expecting him to be the same person, and will end up being disappointed when he finds… just Yuuri.

Maybe he’s already disappointed.Maybe when Yuuri leaves the bathroom, Viktor will be gone, and Yuuri won’t have to face letting down the one person who means everything to him.

He swallows and opens his eyes.He catches his reflection in the bathroom mirror and winces.His eyes are puffy and tired behind his glasses, he still has bedhead that he never bothered to flatten, and… yup, his sweater is actually on backwards.He pulls it off and sets it right.There’s nothing he can do about the rest of him, though.

Maybe that’s a good thing.If he looks like the mess that he is, then Viktor might realize he isn’t worth his time sooner rather than later, and Yuuri will be spared the terror of Viktor looking at him.A strange serenity washes over him at the thought.He’s inevitably going to screw this up, so why not take advantage of the time he has?

He clings to that serenity as he opens the bathroom door and makes his way back into the restaurant.It falters a little at the sight of Viktor chatting with Phichit, looking like he just strolled off a runway.He seems comfortable with Phichit, laughing at some comment that Phichit makes and quipping something in return.

That, at least, makes a little more tension leak from Yuuri’s shoulders.Even if Yuuri makes a fool of himself, at least Viktor won’t be disappointed by Phichit.

He takes a deep breath, and walks the rest of the way to the table.

Viktor perks up immediately as Yuuri slides into his seat.“Yuuuuuri,” he says, leaning on one elbow and smiling languidly at him.“What took you so long?You’re not ill, are you?”

So much for serenity.Yuuri’s face is on fire.“Um,” he croaked.Intelligent _and_ attractive, great job.He takes another deep breath.He can do this.He can act normal, he _can_.“I’m just a little… hungover, I guess.”

Viktor chuckles.It’s what pure sunshine must sound like.“I’m not surprised,” he says, his voice fond.

Fond?Of _Yuuri_?Surely Yuuri is misreading him.

“Last night was pretty wild,” Viktor continues.“I’m a little worse for wear myself.”His hair is styled in a perfect sweep across his brow, his eyes are clear and shining, and he smells like the Chanel cologne that sponsors him.Yuuri has never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life.

Yuuri opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.His mouth is too dry to form words.

Phichit saves him before the silence gets too weird, thank God.“It could be worse,” he pointed out.“At least we’re all conscious.”

“And whose fault is that?” Yuuri mutters automatically.If Phichit hadn’t woken him up to go to lunch, he wouldn’t be sitting next to Viktor Nikiforov.He can’t decide if he wants to thank Phichit or throttle him.

“Um, yours?” Phichit says with a laugh.“You were the one who kept buying us all shots.”

Yuuri gapes at him.“I did _not_.”

“Check your bank account,” Phichit tells him.“Or maybe don’t, those drinks were expensive.”

“You kept coming up with drinks you wanted me to try,” Viktor adds.“I quite liked the blowjob.”

Yuuri chokes on air.The rest of his life, he will know what the word blowjob sounds like in Viktor Nikiforov’s voice.What kind of hell did he land himself in?

Viktor pats him lightly on the back, a hint of a smirk on his lips.It doesn’t help stop the choking.

The waitress appears again, smiling blandly and ignoring the sight of an internationally ranked figure skater choking at her table. “Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” she asks.

Viktor smiles cheerfully at her and says something in Russian.Yuuri grabs his water and takes a huge gulp.The language sounds so guttural when anyone else speaks it, but hearing Viktor speaking his native language…He finishes half his water in one swallow.

“I have no idea how to say this,” Phichit mutters, squinting at his menu.There are English descriptions next to the Russian, but even the romanized names look like a garbled mess of letters.“Um… the sha- shashi-“

“шашлы́к,” Viktor corrects.

“The kabobs,” Phichit says, handing his menu over with a good natured grin.The waitress nods and makes a nod, and then, inevitably, all eyes are on Yuuri.

“Um,” he says.“The, uh, mushroom pirozhki, please.”

Viktor sighs as she walks away.“This place is so touristy,” he complains.“Trying to be ‘authentic Russian’ but without any soul.”He leans forward, conspiratorial and magnetic.“There’s a place a few blocks away, my rinkmate Georgi told me about it, run by this ба́бушка who complains to you about her grandchildren when she serves you.One of Sochi’s hidden gems, we should go there!”

Yuuri doesn’t choke this time.He might be settling into a kind of numbness, not nearly as pleasant as the serenity from before, but at least not as humiliating as bursting into flames.

“Ah, but wait,” Viktor continues, barely stopping for breath.“When are you leaving?I don’t think she’s open today…”

“Our, uh.Our flight leaves tomorrow morning,” Yuuri stammers.Up until two seconds ago he’d wished it left earlier, so that he wouldn’t have to stew in his own failure for two whole days after the free skate.But now Viktor looks so disappointed that he regrets pushing for such an early flight.“When- when are you leaving?” he asks hesitantly.

Viktor waves a dismissive hand.“Oh, technically two hours ago,” he says.“But I accidentally on purpose didn’t set my alarm so that I don’t have to live through Yakov scolding me for three hours with no relief.”

“Your coach?” Yuuri asks, surprised enough that the words actually come out clearly.“But- you just won gold!You broke your own world record!Why would he scold you?”

Viktor’s smile wavers.It happens so quick that Yuuri wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t staring so intently, and didn’t have years and years of experience watching Viktor smile for the camera, if not in person.“Ah, well,” he says breezily.“Yakov’s just a grouch, he scolds me about everything.”

It isn’t that Viktor sounds like he’s lying- it’s just that his bright smile, the one he flashes to reporters and judges and sponsors, seems just a little bit fake when Yuuri sees it up close.

“Well, whatever your coach is doing, it seems to be working,” Phichit jokes.He leans forward, suddenly eager.“Do you have any pointers for an up-and-coming skater like me?I’ve been trying to get my quad toe down, but it’s still a little shaky.”

Viktor takes a second to turn away from Yuuri and smile at Phichit.It’s only when his focus is elsewhere that Yuuri realizes he’d just been gazing deeply into Viktor Nikiforov’s eyes- and Viktor had been gazing right back.

“Of course!” Viktor says.“Do you have a video so I can see your technique?”

Yuuri watches silently as Viktor leans forward to watch the video Phichit finds.It’s strange to think that the very same carefree smile that graces the posters on Yuuri’s walls, might actually be fake.Not that he really thought Viktor was always smiling, always happy.But it’s one thing to know in abstract that his idol is a human being, and another to be confronted with the reality of it.He has an image of Viktor built up in his head, drawn from interviews and social media accounts and photoshoots- but he doesn’t know him, not really.

“-do you think, Yuuri?”

Yuuri jumps.“Huh?”Phichit and Viktor are both staring at him.He feels his cheeks burn red.“Sorry, I zoned out.”

Zoned out while gawking at Viktor, but they don’t need to know that.

Phichit rolls his eyes.The look on his face says he knows exactly why Yuuri wasn’t paying attention.“We were talking about going to the rink to practice,” he says.“Do you want to come?”

Yuuri freezes.Practice. _With Viktor_.While hungover, two days after the most spectacular failure of his life.Oh- oh god.Oh no.

“S-sure!” he squeaks, completely involuntarily.

Viktor’s face breaks into a smile, this one more genuine than any Yuuri had ever seen.He’s practically _beaming_ with joy- for what reason, Yuuri has no idea.“Great!” he says happily.“Now we just have to break in.”

“ _What?_ ”

* * *

 

Breaking into the rink is much less dramatic than Yuuri was imagining, thank _god_.It mostly involves Viktor sauntering up to the main office and pouting, wherein the poor employee nearly faints before giving them full access to the smaller of the two rinks in the complex while the Olympic size rink is getting cleaned and fixed from the competition.Yuuri gives her an apologetic smile as he walks past, which doesn’t help with her fluster.

“Are you sure she won’t get in trouble for this?” he asks, hoisting his skate bag more securely over his shoulder.

Viktor winks at him.“Don’t worry, I only use my powers for good,” he says.

Yuuri swallows.“Debatable,” he mutters to himself.

He laces up his skates and stands before either Phichit or Viktor.There’s an itch under his skin, from having Viktor nearby or because of the remnants of the competition still surrounding them.This is the rink he’d been practicing in when Mari called to tell him about Vicchan.This is the rink where he’d stepped back on the ice and felt, suddenly, like he’d never been on skates before in his life.It’s not the bigger rink, the one where he humiliated himself in front of millions of people and his idol, but this ice seems just as unfriendly.

He steps on the ice and swallows.He can do this.It’s his day off, anyway.He doesn’t have to do anything more complicated than skating around in circles if he doesn’t want to.

He pushes off and starts a lazy lap around the rink.The cold air feels good against his flushed cheeks, the glide and scrape of his skates against the ice the familiar background music to his life.It’s not too bad, coming back to the ice.It’s a little bit like coming home.

He hears Viktor and Phichit getting on the ice behind him.He doesn’t stop to warm up with them, just keeps going in his long loop around the ice.After one lap, he adds in some twizzles, a quick half loop jump, some crossover exercises just to relearn the feeling of the ice beneath his feet.It’s not like it’s been a long time since he skated- one full day, which is less time than when he first came to Detroit or when he caught the flu last year.It still feels like a reintroduction, like he’s lost some part of himself and has to learn to compensate for the change.

He switches to compulsory figures around the same time that Phichit and Viktor stop warming up and start on Phichit’s quad toe loop.He tries to focus on his edge work instead of on the sound of Viktor’s voice describing how he preps for his own quad toe, about positioning in the air and getting the right depth of his edge on the landing.It’s nearly impossible- Yuuri finds himself pausing to watch Viktor launch himself into a perfect quad toe as if it costs him no effort whatsoever.Phichit claps enthusiastically; Yuuri clutches at the fabric of his pants uneasily and turns back to work on his Change Double Three.

When he glances over again, Phichit is speeding into his jump.Yuuri watches hopefully, and winces when Phichit’s free skate scratches on the landing and sends him sprawling.

“Well, your positioning is a mess,” Viktor says, cheerfully blunt.“You’re so worried about falling that you tense up, which then makes you fall.”

Yuuri twitches.He’s pretty sure that Viktor was just talking to Phichit, but it’s almost like the words are meant for Yuuri as well.Except that’s ridiculous- he doubts Viktor has ever seen him attempt a jump, and even if he had he wouldn’t have _opinions_ about it.

He pretends not to be watching and listening as Viktor continues to critique Phichit’s jump, running him through some doubles to point out differences in technique and air position.He keeps his eyes on the ice, trying to focus on his edges- but the pull of Viktor skating not twenty feet away proves to be a little much.He looks over right as Phichit gears up to do another quad.

He leaps into the air, rotates four times, and lands with a clean sweep of his foot behind him.

“Wow, Phichit!” Yuuri cheers.It’s the cleanest quad he’s seen Phichit land.

“Oh my god, it’s so hard,” Phichit says, but his smile is threatening to split his face in two.“What do you think, Yuuri, +3 GOE or what?”

“At _least_ +7,” Yuuri says.

“Not bad,” Viktor concedes.“Your edge quality could be better on your landing.You have a long way to go before you beat me.”He’s smiling though, Phichit’s happiness too infectious to resist.

Phichit flaps a dismissive hand.“You’re unbeatable,” he says.“I’d be happy with just medaling, to be honest.”

Viktor’s smile slips, once again so blink-and-you’ll-miss-it that Yuuri isn’t quite sure he really saw it.“Ah, you’re right about that,” he says, giving Phichit a grin that’s more teeth than cheer.

“Should I go one more time?” Phichit asks.

Viktor hums, then shakes his head.“You don’t want to tire yourself out,” he says.He turns to look at Yuuri, smiling as if Yuuri is someone worth looking at.“Why don’t you show us what you’ve got, Yuuri?”

Yuuri freezes.

Viktor wants him to jump.Before he came to Sochi, Yuuri would have said that he’d done anything Viktor asked him to do, as long as his eyes were on him.But now…

“Go Yuuri!” Phichit says, skating back to the boards to give Yuuri some space, when Yuuri hasn’t even said he’ll do it.He tries to glare at his friend, but Phichit is too busy pulling out his phone- oh god, he’s going to post a video of Yuuri humiliating himself in front of his idol.Yuuri’s going to end up at the top of those Buzzfeed lists of most embarrassing videos of all time.He’s going to become a meme- there will be remixes of the video all over YouTube- it’ll be the top comment on the reddit thread about terrible athletes who somehow haven’t retired yet-

“Katsuki Yuuri’s beautiful quad toe loop,” Phichit narrates for his video in a ridiculous deep voice.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and skates to the other end of the rink.He can do this.By some miracle that he doesn’t understand, he has Viktor’s attention.He can’t screw that up by falling on a simple quad toe, he can’t, he _can’t_ -

He builds up speed, sinks into his prep, and jumps.

His skates have barely left the ice when he feels it.He didn’t have the power he needed to make the jump.He’s going to under-rotate it, and if he doesn’t catch his balance quickly enough he’s going to fall again, on top of all the bruises still staining his skin.

The ice comes up to meet him too fast.He doesn’t even have the chance to get his foot underneath him before it’s slipping out, and he falls hard on his already bruised hip.

“Yuuri!Are you okay?” Phichit calls.

Yuuri doesn’t look up.He stares at the ice beneath him, his breath brushing the dusting of snow on top.His hip aches where it hit the ice, and his elbow stings where he instinctively caught himself- but the pain is distant, muffled behind the ringing in his head.

He thought he could do it.God, what a joke.

He hears skates scratch the ice next to him.He closes his eyes and shakily pushes himself back up to his feet.“Don’t post that, okay?” he whispers.His voice wavers, thick with tears he absolutely cannot let out.He might be a failure, but he can’t cry in front of Viktor.“You guys- keep practicing.I’m just gonna…”A sob shakes his chest silently.. “Sorry,” he mutters, and pushes off to hide at the other end of the rink.

He’s an idiot.

He came in _last_ place at the Final, and not by a small margin, either.Viktor hadn’t had such a low score since his first year in Juniors- and yet he’d thought he could skate on the same ice as him, show off a _quad_?If he hadn’t been thinking about retiring before, he certainly is now.

Suddenly, all he wants is to be home- not the apartment he shares with Phichit in Detroit, but _home_ in Hasetsu.His room that’s stayed the same his entire life, aside from his growing collection of posters.His mom and dad and Mari and Minako supporting him even when he fails.Ice Castle Hasetsu and that one corner of the rink that’s just a little bit lower than the rest after an earthquake shifted the foundation.Vicchan curled up on his bed, following him on his runs, waiting for him outside the rink, forcing him out of the house on days when he’d rather stay indoors and mope.

He squeezes his eyes shut, letting a tear or two drip out.Even if he goes back home, it won’t be the same.Not without Vicchan there to greet him, too enthusiastic and slobbery and whining to be picked up.

Someone skates up behind him- Phichit checking up on him, as usual.He knows his friend just wants to make sure he’s okay- but really, right now when he’s _not_ okay, he doesn’t want anyone around to witness it.Even someone who knows him as well as Phichit does.

“I’m fine,” he says thickly.“Just, uh, keep going.”

“I’m sorry.”

Yuuri whirls around.It’s not Phichit standing there- it’s Viktor.

Viktor shifts his weight and rubs at his forehead.“I’m sorry,” he says again.He looks a little lost, not a hint of a smile on his face, none of his usual confidence.“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.I know you must be feeling off.”

Yuuri looks down at his feet.He has to clear his throat before he can get words out cleanly.“It’s hard to shake off a score like I got,” he says quietly.“Not that you would know.”

Viktor’s feet slide closer.“I didn’t- I mean because of Vicchan.”

That startles Yuuri into meeting Viktor’s eyes again.He sees his own grief reflected in Viktor’s expression, mingling with contrition and- _fuck_ \- pity.“Did Phichit tell you?” Yuuri asks, bewildered.He hadn’t told anyone else about Vicchan, and Phichit had said he wouldn’t say anything about it either.

Viktor tilts his head.“You told me,” he says quietly.“Last night.”

“Oh.”Yuuri swallows.He isn’t sure he wants to hear what else he did last night, what secrets he spilled when he was drunk and grieving and wallowing in his own failure.

“I get it,” Viktor hurries to explain, as if he said something wrong.“If anything happened to my Makkachin, I would be devastated.I’d probably have to drop out of a competition because I wouldn’t get out of bed.”He gives a weak smile, haunted by the knowledge that all dog owners share: this time of love can never last.“Makka’s getting pretty old, now,” he adds, his smile fading.“He still acts like a puppy, but I know at some point soon…”

Yuuri nods.He knows how much Viktor cares for his dog- it’s plastered all over his Instagram, after all.

Viktor clears his throat.“Anyway.You fell on your jump, but your figures were amazing, earlier.”

“Huh?”

The smile is back on Viktor’s face, earnest and genuine now.“Is that how you get such good edge quality in your step sequences?”

Yuuri stares at him.“I guess,” he says, unsure how they changed topics so quickly.“I just like doing them.”

“I could never get the hang of them,” Viktor says, shrugging.“They were too boring.Yakov always yelled at me a lot more when I tried them, so I just stopped trying.It probably shows,” he adds ruefully.

“What?But your step sequences-”

“Are a little sloppy- or they were this weekend, anyway,” Viktor says.“I was too focused on the jumps, and not on the rest.Especially not the program components.”

Yuuri gapes at him.He never thought he’d hear someone dismissing one of Viktor’s programs so scornfully, _especially_ not Viktor himself.

Viktor brightens a little.“Would you show me one of your step sequences?” he asks hopefully.“I didn’t get the chance to see them during the competition, but I think it might help me figure out how to fix mine.”

“You- _what?_ ”Yuuri stares at him.He must have misheard.There's no way Viktor Nikiforov wants to watch his step sequence.There's _definitely_ no way that Viktor Nikiforov thinks he can get something _out_ of watching his step sequences.

“Please?” Viktor asks.He leans forward, the angle highlighting his slight pout, the length of his eyelashes over his blue, blue eyes.“Just the one from your short program?”

And how on Earth does Viktor even know what his short program step sequence looks like?

Or… maybe he doesn’t.But at this point, it doesn’t matter if Viktor is just screwing with him, or if he genuinely is interested for just this moment.  Yuuri is lost.

“O-okay,” he agrees.

He thinks about playing the music, but he doesn’t really need it at this point.He’s spent so long with this routine that he could do it in his sleep, and this isn’t the program that sank him to last place.It’s strange to think that after the short program he’d been in fourth, just a sneeze away from catching up to Chris- nowhere near Viktor’s short program score, but not something to be ashamed of, either.

He skates out to center ice, keeping his back to Viktor.It’s easier to do this if he doesn’t think about Viktor’s eyes on him- and yet, strangely, the thought of Viktor’s eyes on him and only him is what prompts him to start, to move into the choreographic section that starts it off.

Something loosens in him as he skates, hydroblading with as much grace as he can muster, and then moving into the more technical step sequence that follows it.It always feels so natural to skate as if he’s dancing, safe in Minako’s studio, still too small to reach the barre.He’s wondered sometimes if he should have gone into dance instead of skating- but the thought always cuts short, too consumed with the way Viktor moves on the ice.Dance is all very well, but with his skates scratching his bracket and rocker turns in the ice, he has Viktor’s attention.

His speed builds up as he traces a serpentine pattern across the ice.He leads into the combination spin without thinking, without wondering if he should stop.The music that lives inside him flows so perfectly into his Biellmann that he doesn’t even register that Viktor only asked for his step sequence, not the whole program.

Out of the spin now, a short choreographic sequence to build his speed back up, and then a quad toe loop-

He stops.

His hip still aches from falling on his quad toe just a few minutes ago.

“Yuuri!”

He blinks and looks up.Both Viktor and Phichit are applauding and cheering, as if a step sequence is somehow more impressive than all the things they can do that he can’t.

“That was _amazing_!” Viktor says, skating over.

Yuuri’s blush probably extends all the way to his feet.“Ah, thank you!” he says.

Viktor grabs Yuuri’s hand and gazes at him with shining eyes.Yuuri is about two seconds away from doing something stupid, like fainting or kissing Viktor senseless.“You’re making me worried, Yuuri!” Viktor says.“If you skate like that at Worlds, you could beat me!”

The noise that comes out of Yuuri’s mouth could generously be called a squawk.“Ehh?”

“Here, let me try, and then you can tell me how to make it better,” Viktor says, and skates away before Yuuri can do anything other than gawk at him.

He’s still gawking when Viktor hits center ice and starts moving.Yuuri’s program.Viktor Nikiforov is skating _Yuuri’s program_.

There are a few rough patches- Viktor slips on the hydroblade just a little, and does a few of the steps out of order.Yuuri’s still shocked that Viktor can copy the complex step sequence so well after seeing it exactly once.Unless Viktor has seen it before today- but no, that would be absurd.

“Holy shit,” Phichit says, appearing next to Yuuri with an awestruck expression.“He must really like you.”

Yuuri almost asks what Phichit could possibly mean by that, when Viktor enters into the combination spin.His camel looks amazing- but then he stops right before the Biellmann, a sheepish expression on his face.

“Ah, I can’t actually do a Biellmann,” Viktor says, skating back over to them.He isn’t even out of breath, when Yuuri knows how exhausting that step sequence can be.Celestino had gotten it choreographed with the Grand Prix Final in mind, though Yuuri had found the notion ridiculous at the time.

Wait.

Yuuri blinks, Viktor's words catching up to him.  “What?” he says.He can’t really imagine Viktor _not_ being able to do something he puts his mind to- surely he wouldn’t be defeated by a spin?“But- what about when you were younger?”

Viktor gasps dramatically, putting a hand over his heart.“ _Yuuri_!Are you saying that I’m _old_?”

It’s so ridiculous that Yuuri has to roll his eyes- until he realizes who he’s rolling his eyes _at_.He blushes.“No- no!You’re not- I just meant- your spins are really good! I liked your camel-”He cuts himself off before he can embarrass himself any further.

Viktor preens, dramatics forgotten in an instant.“You think?” he says, tossing his hair out of his face in a gesture guaranteed to stop Yuuri’s heart.He peers down at Yuuri, his eyes piercing and beautiful.“I think yours is better,” he purrs.

The cold of the ice rink is the only thing that keeps Yuuri from spontaneously combusting.

“No way,” he says, a little sharper than he means to.

Viktor tilts his head.“Yuuri,” he says, a little bemusedly.He curls his tongue around Yuuri’s name like it’s something precious, something to be drawn out and savored.A shiver rolls its way down Yuuri’s back.“You know that you consistently outscore me on your spins and step sequences, right?”He digs in his pocket for his phone and types something into the browser.“Look, I have proof.”

Yuuri stares at the scoring table on Viktor’s phone, the one the ISU published for the GPF short programs.It’s not like he hasn’t looked at it, studied where he needs to improve, how he stacks up in individual components against the other skaters.And yet, somehow he never realized that Viktor is right: the GOEs on his spins and step sequences are _higher_ than what Viktor got on his.

“What,” he says flatly, rubbing at his eyes.Maybe he’s reading this wrong.He’s not wearing his glasses, maybe somehow they correct for his reading as well as his distance vision.

Because if he really does outscore Viktor on spins and step sequences, then the only thing holding him back from _beating his idol_ \- at least in the short program- are his jumps.

“I’ve been trying to tell him this for years,” Phichit tells Viktor.

"I don't- No.  This isn't," Yuuri stammers.

Phichit sighs.  "The things I put up with," he mutters.  He claps his hands, dragging Yuuri’s attention away from the scores that make no sense.“Okay!Here’s what we’ll do.Yuuri and Viktor, you will both do a combination spin, one at a time, while I film, and then I’ll give you both a score.A spins Grand Prix Final!”

“Oh!  I love this sort of this,” Viktor says, pressing a finger to his lips thoughtfully.“What do I get if I win?”

Part of Yuuri freezes at the thought of competing with Viktor directly; but another part, a louder and less timid part, bristles at Viktor’s arrogant tone.“If _you_ win?” he says.“Two seconds ago you were saying that my spins are better- which is _ridiculous_ , by the way _-_ so how do you think you would win this?”

Viktor smiles, his eyes half-lidded.He looks like a predatory cat, seemingly relaxed in the underbrush until it leaps out to slaughter its prey.“Ah, but I wasn’t trying to beat you, before,” he says.“Your jumps aren’t good enough in a full program to catch up to me, so you weren’t a threat.Now, though…”His smile widens.

Yuuri swallows.“We’ll see about that, old man,” he says, braver than he actually feels.

Fuck _fuck_ did he really just say that?

Viktor looks delighted.“Watch this old man wipe the floor with you,” he says cheerfully.

What the hell.

After a quick game of rock-paper-scissors, Phichit declares that Viktor will skate first.Phichit and Yuuri head over to the side of the rink, while Viktor decides on what spin he wants to do, and laps around the rink once, twice, to build up his speed.

His butterfly into an illusion spin is _beautiful_.Viktor is by no means a small person, and yet he looks like he’s floating, just barely deigning to drop back down to the ice, and hitting the bottom point of his spin in the exact place every time.He transitions into a sit spin so fast that Yuuri can’t make out his features, can only see the blur of his limbs and the flash of silver hair in a halo around him.

And yet…

Even with all of the beauty in Viktor’s spins, Yuuri can see it.The limitations of Viktor’s flexibility, the places where he hesitates over his transitions, half hidden by his performance but visible if you know what to look for.Yuuri swallows as Viktor pulls out of his spin gracefully, bowing to the camera as if the whole rink is once again exploding in applause.

Yuuri sets his jaw.He… can beat Viktor.He’s going to beat Viktor, if not when it mattered, then at least right now.

He takes off without waiting to hear what Phichit has to say about the spins.He laps the rink with single minded determination.If Viktor wants a competition, he’ll get a competition.

He starts with a camel, but changes it to a donut after just a few revolutions.He’s practiced for hours and hours on his flexibility, desperately trying to keep it where it was when he was a teenager.He might not be able to hyperextend his splits anymore, but he can certainly form a perfect circle with his body.Three, four, five revolutions like that, and then he changes edges, without even a wobble, lifting his leg into the perfect teardrop shape of his Biellmann.Viktor can’t even _do_ this spin.

He finishes with a drop into a layback, lifting his arm to complete the mirage effect.When he pulls out, he’s a little dizzy from the effort, but it’s well worth it to see the look on Viktor’s face.

“Cheating!” Viktor sputters.“I can't believe it, Yuuri Katsuki, a _cheater_!”

“How is that cheating?” Yuuri asks, incredulous.“Phichit said combination spin, I did a combination spin.”

“One that I just told you I can’t do!” Viktor complains.

Yuuri snorts unattractively.“I can’t do a quad flip, but you don’t see me complaining when you do two in every program,” he retorts.

Viktor presses the back of his hand against his forehead, like a swooning damsel in an old movie.It’s ridiculous.Viktor is ridiculous.  This whole situation is so ridiculous, that Yuuri finds himself... going along with it.   _Enjoying_ it, even.“So cruel,” Viktor laments.He peers out from under his fringe, a glint in his eye that makes Yuuri’s palms sweat.“But if that’s the way we’re playing it…”

He takes off suddenly, gaining speed as he skates around the rink, turns to skate backward, and prepares for a jump.Yuuri realizes in the second before he does it what he’s about to do.

Viktor glances at him, winks, and executes a _perfect_ quad flip.

“Holy shit,” Phichit, audible even halfway across the rink.  He brings his phone down and his thumbs start flying across the screen.“Holy _shit_ that’s amazing.”

Yuuri can only stare.

Viktor skates up next to him with a smug smile- but instead of stopping, Viktor grabs his hand and yanks him forward.He stumbles, catches his balance again, and by then he’s skating hand in hand- _how? what?_ \- with Viktor.

“Ready?” Viktor says.

“For what?” Yuuri squeaks.Viktor’s hand is warm wrapped around his; he hadn’t realized his fingers were cold until this moment.His breath is hitching, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s not from panic but from laughter.He’s having _fun_.

“Pairs spin,” Viktor says.“What do you think, pairs camel?Or should we try for something more adventurous- you could do a catch-foot layback and I do a sit spin?”

“Camel!” Yuuri says hurriedly, before Viktor can come up with anything more complicated.He wonders if he should point out that neither of them are pairs skaters.“Do you even know how to get into it?”

“Ah!I think it’s-”Viktor pushes Yuuri away without warning, sending him on an opposite trajectory.“And then we go in a circle, then meet in the middle!”

There is no way this will end well.Yuuri follows Viktor’s vague and unhelpful instructions, closing their circle around each other until they’re almost close enough to touch.

“Okay, and _spin!_ ”

Yuuri goes into a camel spin- and promptly hits his head against Viktor’s elbow.

“Oops- Oh no, Yuuri!I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you-”

His head is throbbing where it connected with Viktor’s elbow, such a different kind of bruise than he’s used to.Viktor puts a gentle hand on his head, his movements concerned but his expression- his _expression_.He looks like he accidentally kicked a puppy.

Yuuri can’t help it.He bursts into laughter.

For once, it’s Viktor who looks totally lost.“Yuuri?”

He can’t stop laughing.It bubbles up from his gut and makes his aching head even worse, but it’s.Just. So. Ridiculous.He hit his head on his idol’s elbow.While trying a pair spin.Without even looking up the technique first.Just because Viktor was sour that he _beat_ him in a spins competition.

What the hell.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri sputters through his laughter.“You-You have no idea how to do this, do you-”

Viktor’s confused and concerned expression melts away into a beautiful, thoughtless smile.“I thought we would figure it out!” he says.“Do you want to try a death spiral next?”

“A d- _hell_ no,” Yuuri says, struggling to catch his breath.“It’s called a _death_ spiral for a reason- Viktor!”

Viktor grabs him by the waist and pushes him forward until they’re skating together, so close that Yuuri would be worried they might trip if he wasn’t utterly focused on Viktor’s hands on his hips, his sparkling eyes just a foot away.“Okay, okay, no death spirals,” Viktor concedes.“What about a throw jump?I know how to do those.  All I have to do is, you know, throw you.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Yuuri says, but he’s smiling still.His hands fall without a thought to rest on top of Viktor’s.He has no idea what’s happening.He’s eighty percent sure that he’s dreaming, that Phichit never woke him up this morning, that he’ll open his eyes in a moment to find himself hungover in his hotel room, his dog gone and his career in shambles.

“Sure it is,” Viktor says.“Let’s try it.Throw salchow, c’mon.”

Yuuri swallows.Viktor’s enthusiasm is infectious, his eyes positively sparkling.That’s something that all the interviews and photoshoots in the world never capture, the playful glint in his eyes, the impulsive grin always waiting for a chance to light up his face.“Okay,” Yuuri says.

The grin stretches impossibly wider into an expression of pure delight.Yuuri would be happy looking at that expression for the rest of his life.

“Okay!” Viktor repeats, adjusting his hold around Yuuri’s hips.“Alright, first we turn-”

He steers Yuuri until they’re skating backwards, still connected by Viktor’s light touch.It feels… right.As if Yuuri has always been skating with Viktor’s influence guiding him, and this is just an extension of how it always is.

“Ready?” Viktor asks, quiet now.They aren’t close enough for Yuuri to feel the word against his skin, but he shivers anyway.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

He knows, with Viktor’s hands on him and his mind blessedly blank, exactly what he’s going to do.He preps his jump, not the salchow that Viktor is expecting.He hears Viktor gasp a quiet breath behind him, and smiles as he leaps into the air with Viktor’s hands guiding the way.

One, two, three, four.

He hits the ice with a perfect edge, a perfect free leg, perfect flow.A quad flip.He’s never landed one before, not even in practice.

“ _Yuuri!!_ ” Viktor exclaims.That’s all the warning he gets before Viktor tackles him with a hug.Yuuri wobbles and nearly falls on his ass, when he landed his jump so well.“That was _amazing!_ ”

Yuuri laughs, too excited to do anything else.“I’ve never gotten a quad flip before!” he says.“I just thought- with you helping-”

“It was perfect!” Viktor says.He doesn’t quite lift Yuuri up and spin him around, but he does skate them both in a tiny circle, still wrapped around Yuuri in a hug.Yuuri returns the hug without thinking, clutching at Viktor’s shirt with trembling fingers.“Phichit!Tell me you were filming that!”

Yuuri glances over his shoulder, but Phichit isn’t there.He frowns and untangles himself reluctantly from Viktor’s embrace.“Where did he go?”

He skates over to the barrier.Phichit’s bag is gone, too.Yuuri checks his phone, and nearly drops it when he sees the time.They’ve been here for three hours, apparently, and he hadn’t even realized.

He shakes his head and gets back to the task on hand, opening his messages app to text Phichit, only to find a column of messages waiting from the man himself.

 

> **Phichit  
>  ** Went to get coffee, meet you back at the room  
>  Have fun skating with Viktor  
>  Skating and… other physical activities ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
>  …but um, not in our room okay?  
>  I sleep there too

“What did he say?”

Yuuri jumps and _does_ drop his phone.Which is probably a good thing, because Viktor is right behind him and might have read the incriminating messages otherwise.“Um!” he squeaks.“He went to get coffee, he says.”

“And he didn’t invite us?Rude!”Viktor doesn’t seem too put out by it.He leans against the barrier while Yuuri grabs his phone and checks it for cracks.“Do you want to try another throw jump?Or maybe a lift?”

Yuuri clears his throat.Phichit’s message feels like a wakeup call, a reminder that this is reality and not the dream that it feels like.It’s fun skating with Viktor- it’s _wonderful_ \- but it has to end sometime.“I’m actually getting hungry,” he says.“Maybe we should call it a day?”

Viktor perks up.“Oh!Do you want to go get dinner?”

“I- um,” Yuuri stammers, taken aback.It almost sounds like Viktor is asking him on a date, which is impossible.He must be projecting his own teenage fantasies onto the real, flesh-and-blood human smiling at him.“I was just going to go back to my room, get pizza or something.It’s been a long weekend.”

Viktor deflates a little, but his smile doesn’t slip this time.“That’s true,” he says ruefully.“You deserve to relax a little.”

They take their skates off in near silence, shoulder to shoulder on the bench.Yuuri sighs in relief when he takes his foot out of the confines of his skate.He loves this sport, gives it everything he has- but that feeling of release is still one of the best things he’s ever experienced.

He glances at Viktor out of the corner of his eye as he slips his sneakers on.Viktor looks contemplative, not quite unhappy, but his bright smile from before muted.Yuuri swallows and looks down at his feet.

“Viktor?”

He feels Viktor startle, his shoulders shifting in surprise and brushing against Yuuri’s.“Yes?”

Yuuri takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.“I don’t remember last night.I was blacked out.”It feels like a heavy confession, even though logically he’s sure Viktor has figured it out already.

Viktor doesn’t say anything for a moment.“I know,” he says finally.“Phichit told me.”

Yuuri braves a glance at him.His expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t look angry, so Yuuri presses on.“I don’t know what I did, or- or said.I’m not the same person, when I’m drunk.But, um.I wanted to…Can we start over?Forget last night happened, and maybe just… be friends?”

His stomach churns with anxiety, but he did it.He asked.He can die now, knowing that he did what he could to be a part of Viktor’s life, outside of this one afternoon on the rink, and one night of drunkenness that he doesn’t remember.

Viktor freezes.

Oh no.

Yuuri almost says something else, laughs off his dumb attempt to make friends with someone so out of his league.But then Viktor restarts, the unreadable expression replaced in a flash with a gentle smile.There’s something off about it still, but his eyes are warm as he looks at Yuuri.

“Of course!” he says.“I would be honored to be your friend, Yuuri.”

He leans back on his hands, still smiling.Yuuri smiles back, feeling warm despite the cool air of the rink.

Friends.What a wonderful thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Apparently I have a thing about Yuuri messing around with pairs skating?? Who knew.
> 
> -A blowjob (the drink, not the... act) is a shot made from Bailey's (yum), Kahlua (extra yum), and whipped cream (YUM). The "traditional" way of drinking it is to put your hands behind your back, and either suck/lick the shot out of the glass, or put the whole thing in your mouth and toss it back- hence the name. It's much more delicious than actually giving a blowjob.
> 
> -According to The Internet, Biellmann spins are usually only done by women since it requires a LOT of flexibility (Yuzuru Hanyu does them a lot, though, which is where I got the art reference). In canon it's probably more likely that Yurio can do them than Yuuri, but... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> -Viktor has no idea how to do pairs moves, and that's not how you enter into a pairs camel spin. It took me two minutes of googling to figure that out, so he has no excuse.
> 
> *sashays away*


	3. Give this song another listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Hey There Delilah" by the Plain White Ts

 

> **Unknown Number  
>  ** Hey Yuuri, it’s Viktor! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:·ﾟ✧
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** I saw this and thought of your Vicchan <https://www.petmemorialservices.com/pages/clay-paw-prints>
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** omg I can’t believe Phichit posted the results of our spin competition
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** we need a rematch
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** next time we should do step sequences
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** …nvm I just saw the video Phichit posted, I don’t want to lose again
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** who knew I was such a sore loser??
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** …Yuuri?

* * *

 

 

> **Viktor (!!!!!!!!!!!)  
>  ** Hey, Phichit, is this Yuuri’s real number?  
>  _Contact Sent: Yuuri!!! <3 <3 <3_

* * *

 

Phichit stares at his phone, then looks up at Yuuri in utter disbelief.They still have time before training starts, but Yuuri is already on the ice, a tiny frown on his face as he skates aimlessly around the rink.Phichit might have felt bad for him, except for the incriminating text message that just came through.

“Yuuri,” he says as his friend passes nearby.“ _Yuuri_.”

Yuuri stops and backtracks to lean over the boards.He frowns at Phichit’s expression- like he has no idea why Phichit might be angry.“What’s wrong?”

Phichit waves his phone in front of Yuuri’s face, probably too quickly for Yuuri to actually read what’s on it- but that’s not the point, is it.“Have you been ignoring _Viktor Nikiforov’s_ texts?”

Yuuri freezes.

Gotcha.Phichit hates that he was right, because it means that Yuuri is an even bigger idiot than he thought.He might be three years younger than Yuuri, but even he knows that playing hard to get is a bullshit move.

“ _Yuuri!_ ” he groans, dropping his head onto his arms.“You were supposed to get _less_ awkward the more you talk to him, not _more_!”

Yuuri looks down, blushing even more than he usually does when it comes to Viktor.“I know,” he says, his voice small.“I just… every time I’ve tried to respond, it looks stupid.I don’t want him to think…”

Phichit groans again, louder and more pointedly.“You’re ridiculous,” he says.“Don’t you think it’s worse that he knows you’ve read his messages and haven’t responded?”

Yuuri flinches.

Phichit sighs.How on earth did Yuuri survive so long without him?“Okay, okay, I’ll help you out,” he says.“Get out your phone.”

“Now?” Yuuri says, all wide-eyed panic.

“ _Yes_ , now,” Phichit insists.“He literally just asked me if he had the right number for you.You don’t want to keep him waiting, do you?”

Determination crosses Yuuri’s features.He shakes his head and pulls his phone out.His fingers are shaking a little as he punches in his password, but Phichit recognizes the look on his face.Yuuri won’t back out now, thank god.

There are at least six or seven unanswered text messages from Viktor on Yuuri’s phone, ranging from four days ago to just an hour ago.You gotta admire the guy’s tenacity, really.Phichit probably would have given up after the first two messages went ignored for a whole day.

“What should I say?” Yuuri asks, just one pathetic decibel away from begging.

“How about ‘I’ve been obsessed with you since I was twelve will you marry me and make sweet love to me for the rest of our lives?’”

“ _Phichit_!”

Phichit sighs.Yuuri looks like he might combust at any second, so maybe teasing isn’t the best route right now.“Just say hi,” he says.“Seriously, Yuuri, all you need to do is make contact.Maybe answer _one_ of those messages.”

Yuuri takes a visibly deep breath.He nods once, twice, then starts typing.Phichit leans in to read over his shoulder.

> **Me  
>  ** Hey Viktor! Thanks for the suggestion, but since Vicchan was in Japan I can’t use it

“Add an emoticon,” Phichit suggests.“It makes it less blunt.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes.“I do know how texting works, thanks.”

> **Me  
>  ** Hey Viktor! Thanks for the suggestion, but since Vicchan was in Japan I can’t use it（◞‸◟）

“Great!” Phichit says.“Now all you have to do is press that little button there on the side, the one that says ‘Send.’”

Yuuri doesn’t move.He just stares at the text message, frozen with his thumb hovering over the keyboard.

“Yuuri?”

“This is stupid,” he mutters.“I can’t send him that- he’ll think I’m mad at him for suggesting that place-”

Phichit isn’t a world class athlete for nothing, and if there was an Olympic category for technology, he’d get a gold medal in every event.He grabs the phone out of Yuuri’s hands before Yuuri even knows what hit him, and presses Send with a flourish.

“Sent!” he says happily.

“ _NO!_ ” Yuuri shrieks, reaching for his phone.Phichit tosses it back to him without a thought.He completed his mission, anyway.No way to take back a text message.And now that it’s out there, Yuuri does look a little relieved that the decision was taken out of his hands.Really, Phichit knows him far too well.

Yuuri stares at his phone for a long moment, then forces it back into his pocket and starts skating again with a grateful glance at Phichit.Phichit sees his hand stray toward his phone at least three times as he skates a lap around the rink, but he doesn’t take it out again.

A few notes from _The King and The Skater_ alert Phichit to a text message on his own phone.

> **Viktor (!!!!!!!!!!!)  
>  ** nvm he just texted back!!

Phichit smiles and is about to put his phone away so he can get his skates on when another message comes through.

> **Viktor (!!!!!!!!!!!)  
>  **_(Screencap of message from Yuuri)  
>  _ what should I say?????

Phichit groans.He _doesn’t_ throw his phone on the ground, because that would be like committing murder, but he comes as close as he ever has.

No.Just… No.

He is not going to tell Viktor what to say in response to the text message that he helped compose.He refuses to have a conversation with _himself_ by way of Viktor and Yuuri’s text messages.He has his own life to deal with, thank you very much.He’s got a quad toe loop to nail down, a program to perfect, and a hypothetical ice show to plan.He doesn’t have time to be the mediator in a relationship between two grown men.

He glances up at the rink.Yuuri is still skating in aimless circles, his hand hovering over his pocket like he might grab his phone at any second and stare hopelessly at it, waiting for a response.A response that hasn’t come yet, because Viktor is waiting for Phichit’s advice.

Fuck.

Phichit sighs and opens up the messaging app. 

> **Me  
>  ** Ask him about the dog we saw on the way to the rink this morning

A second later, Yuuri’s phone _pings_.He fumbles for it eagerly, nearly dropping it in the process.Phichit bites down a smile at the excitement in Yuuri’s expression as he types out a reply, with none of the hesitation from before.Phichit really is a god among matchmakers.

He’s halfway through lacing up his own skates when another message comes through.He pauses to glance at it- Viktor again.Honestly, if Phichit didn’t know better, he’d say that Viktor was _needy_.

> **Viktor (!!!!!!!!!!!)  
>  ** thank you!!!! he’s telling me about it (✿ ♥‿♥)  
>  how’s your quad toe coming along?

Phichit smiles. _Finally_ , a topic that he can get into.

> **Me  
>  ** Better, thanks to you!  
>  I’m talking with coach to work it into my programs for 4cc  
>  but shh you’re not supposed to know that  
>  since technically we're competitors  
>  not that I could beat you, but
> 
> **Viktor (!!!!!!!!!!!)  
>  ** Probably not  
>  but 4cc is a good opportunity  
>  although Europeans will be boring without you to drag us to karaoke

Phichit smiles.He might not be Viktor’s number one fan- that title will always fall to Yuuri- it still feels nice to be acknowledged by the best skater of their time.More than just acknowledged, but appreciated.Even if it’s just for his partying skills.

> **Me  
>  ** Just you wait, Nikiforov  
>  Worlds is gonna be ridic

He sets his phone down and finishes lacing up his skates.If Celestino yells at him for having his phone out on the rink, he could probably make the excuse that Viktor is helping him with his jumps, but that would only fly if his jumps actually improved.

When he glances up, Yuuri is staring at him.Phichit smiles at him, but the smile falters.There’s something strange in Yuuri’s expression, something Phichit doesn’t recognize.He tilts his head in silent question, but the look is gone from Yuuri’s face in an instant.

“You’d better get warmed up,” Yuuri calls, smiling normally again.“Celestino will be here any minute.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Phichit sighs.

He pushes the weird moment to the side for now.It’s Yuuri; whatever it was, he’ll tell Phichit eventually.And if he doesn’t of his own volition, then Phichit will just give him puppy eyes until he does.It’s why their friendship works, and why Phichit will do anything for Yuuri.Including playing matchmaker to the two most ridiculous humans on the planet.

* * *

  

> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** See any cute dogs lately?
> 
> **Me  
>  ** Always
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** Spilllllll I need more doggos in my life (aside from my Makkachin who is the Best)
> 
> **Me  
>  ** Black Lab/Great Dane mix I think, on the way to the rink this morning  
>  He was so BIG and he got SO EXCITED I died  
>  He jumped on my shoulders and he was taller than me  
>  _Image sent_
> 
> __
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** That is the Best Dog wow  
>  oops, sorry Makka
> 
> **Me  
>  ** All dogs are the Best Dogs  
>  but my Vicchan was the actual best
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** Obviously  
>  I didn’t meet him but if he was anything like his owner, he was beyond amazing

Yuuri freezes.He stares at his phone, but the message doesn’t disappear like a mirage.Viktor really did just call him _amazing_.No, not amazing.Beyond amazing.

What universe is he living in?

His thumbs hover over the screen.What can he even say to that?Thank you, I think you’re better?That’s bullshit?Please marry me I have posters of you all over my room I named my dog after you and I can’t stop thinking about the one and only day we spent together-

Maybe not that.

Before he can type anything, though, another message pops up on the screen.

> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** Probably not

Wait.

Yuuri chews on his lower lip.Is Viktor taking back the compliment?He types out a quick reply, ignoring the _beyond amazing_ comment for the moment.

> **Me  
>  ** What?
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** Oops, sorry! That was meant for Phichit, I’m texting him in the other window  
>  He says his quad toe is coming along! (o^∀^)

Oh.

Yuuri isn’t sure why his stomach is sinking in disappointment.He’d seen how well Viktor and Phichit got on- it was the whole reason they’d ended up at the rink together, after all.It makes sense that they would be texting each other.They’re allowed to be friends.Yuuri doesn’t have to be- shouldn’t be- Viktor’s only friend, as much as his chest tightens at the thought of having Viktor all to himself.

He glances up.Phichit is smiling down at his phone, not the bright effusive smile he usually shines on everyone and anything, but a smaller one, private and pleased.Yuuri bites at his lip, fiddling with his phone.Come to think of it, he doesn’t really know what Phichit thinks of Viktor.Yuuri always assumed that Phichit admired Viktor’s skating, but wasn’t a fan like Yuuri- but from the way that he’s smiling at whatever Viktor sent him, Yuuri can see that Phichit thinks differently now.

Wait.He’s being ridiculous.Phichit doesn’t _like_ Viktor, not like that.He would have told Yuuri, surely.At the very least, he wouldn’t have pushed Yuuri and Viktor together that day at the rink, leaving them alone together and sending that suggestive text.Phichit probably isn’t even talking to Viktor right now- maybe he just posted something on Instagram and is smiling at the flood of likes he usually gets.

Yuuri turns his phone over in his hands, then gives in.He opens Instagram, winces at the ridiculous number of notifications- he hasn’t opened it since Sochi, and he almost wishes he hadn’t opened it now- and goes to Phichit’s page.Phichit’s posted at least forty new posts since the last time Yuuri logged on, but none of them seem to be within the last few hours.

Maybe someone left a nice comment?

Yuuri bites down on his lip harder, but it doesn’t stop him from opening Phichit’s latest post, a picture of the dog nearly knocking Yuuri over with Phichit giggling in the foreground, posted this morning.It’s a nice picture of Phichit, at least, although the look of surprise on Yuuri’s face is less than flattering.He kind of wishes Phichit had asked him before posting that, to be honest, but given how many Instagram pictures Phichit has of him, it’s probably a lost cause.

He scrolls down to the comments, and stops breathing. 

> **v-nikiforov** beautiful!!  <3

So much for talking himself out of the thought that Viktor and Phichit could be interested in each other.

Yuuri taps the next picture numbly.Here too:

> **v-nikiforov** wow!! love this

Another picture, another comment.

> **v-nikiforov** I want this framed （☆ω☆*）
> 
> **v-nikiforov** <3 <3 <3 <3
> 
> **v-nikiforov** amazing!!

Yuuri keeps going.Every single picture Phichit has posted since Sochi has gotten a comment and a like from Viktor.Yuuri has been following all of Viktor’s social media accounts for years, and he knows that Viktor engages a lot with his fans and occasionally comments on his friends’ posts- but this?This is something else.This is hearts and emoticons and effusive compliments on every single post.This is _interest._

He pauses on the last picture before the ones Yuuri has already seen.It’s a selfie from the morning after the banquet, Phichit looking bright and bubbly with his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders.Yuuri looks a mess, the bags under his eyes worse than Yuuri remembers them being, his hair sticking up in all directions, his glasses slightly askew, his sweater lumpy and unattractive.That was what Yuuri looked like when Viktor met them at lunch, he realizes suddenly.Like he had one foot in the grave, and the other in the lost and found bin at a YMCA.

And there, right at the top, is yet another comment.

> **v-nikiforov** ( 。♥‿♥。)

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fist around his phone.Stupid, stupid, stupid.He has no right to feel like someone punched him in the gut, but he does.He barely even knows Viktor- a lifetime of hero worship and one day skating together is not enough to give him any sort of claim.Not even friendship, even if Viktor did say that he would like to be friends.And God knows that Phichit is an amazing guy, maybe a little young for Viktor but still an adult, and someone who deserves every good thing in the world.So who is Yuuri to say that Phichit and Viktor shouldn’t get a happily ever after together?

He swallows, opens his eyes, and glances over to where Phichit is lacing up his skates.Phichit deserves to be happy.He’s always been there for Yuuri, even when Yuuri didn’t even know he needed it.And if Viktor is what makes Phichit happy, then…

Phichit looks up at smiles at Yuuri.Yuuri tries to smile back, but it comes out a little stilted.That’s okay.He’ll practice it until it happens smoothly, naturally.

“You’d better get warmed up,” he tells Phichit.“Celestino will be here any minute.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Phichit sighs.He gets to his feet and stretches.

Yuuri’s phone buzzes in his hand.He glances down, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest.

> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** Yuuri?Still there?

He takes a deep breath, and types out a reply.

> **Me  
>  ** Yeah, sorry! I have to get back to practice now  
>  Talk to you later?
> 
> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** of course!!!  
>  I’ll send you a picture of Makkachin so you have something to look forward to after practice
> 
> **Me  
>  ** haha, thanks!

He shoves his phone back in his pocket.He feels it vibrate one more time, but he doesn’t take it out again.He really does need to get back to warming up, or Celestino will have his head.

He starts marking through his free skate, but stops just a few seconds into it.It doesn’t feel right.Something about the flow of the piece feels stilted, like he’s forcing something that should come naturally.

He takes a deep breath and starts again.His arm lifts, he spins, and moves into a slow bracket turn- then stops again, panting like he’s just done the whole program, not just a small part of it.

He can almost hear the cheers and jeers from the audience in Sochi.The pressure of the lights on him, the too-loud echoes of his music, once so familiar but now completely alien.He feels off balance, like he’s never stepped foot on the ice before, knowing that if he tries to move, he’ll just fall and keep falling, over and over and over again-

No.Don’t think about that.

Then what can he think about?He used to love the ice with his whole heart and soul, but now it feels like a strange, threatening landscape waiting to chew him up and spit him out.

He breathes deep.In, and out.In, and out.He’s not performing now.He doesn’t have to worry about competitions, not yet, not until nationals next week.He just has to get back into the groove of it, that’s all.Relearn the ice.Relearn himself.

In under a week, but no pressure.

In, and out.He can do this.He has to.

> **Viktor (wtf)  
>  ** 頑張って Yuuri!

* * *

 

> **Me  
>  ** I think I want to change up my free skate  
>  At least just the step sequence  
>  It feels so stale
> 
> **Yuuri!!! <3 <3 <3  
>  **You have nationals in two days  
>  Is that enough time to change it??
> 
> **Me  
>  ** That’s what Yakov says too  
>  but I don’t know  
>  there’s just something missing  
>  and it’s so expected and boring  
>  I hate being boring
> 
> **Yuuri!!! <3 <3 <3  
>  **You could never be boring
> 
> **Me  
>  ** Yuuuuuri!!!  
>  That means a lot to me <3
> 
> **Me  
>  ** How’s the prep for your nationals going?
> 
> **Me  
>  ** Yuuri?

The door closes behind Viktor with a soft click, muted by the plush carpet and claustrophobic entrance to the hotel room.He wishes it slammed, hit the frame so hard that the frame cracked like that time Yuri broke the door to Yakov’s apartment, caused a commotion of people angry at him or defending him or laughing at him- anything to cover up the quiet static in his head that’s slowly driving him insane.

He doesn’t slam the door.He just dumps his practice bag in front of the closet, takes his shoes off with a hiss of relief, and collapses on the too-soft mattress.One of the pillows bounces off the bed and onto the floor with the added weight.He doesn’t bother to pick it up.

Maybe he should just go to sleep.It’s not late, the last threads of sunset still picking up pinks and purples from the scattered clouds, and he isn’t really that tired from practice, but.There’s nothing else to do.

If he was back in St. Petersburg, at least he would have Makkachin to take care of.But here…He supposes he could text Georgi, or Mila, or even little Yuri, to see if they wanted to go do something.The thought isn’t particularly appealing.Yuri and Mila are so young, so caught up in their own potential that being around them is sometimes suffocating, a painful reminder of what Viktor once had but can no longer capture.And Georgi… Well, Viktor has never really liked Georgi, even when they were younger.

He pulls out his phone anyway and stares at it.No new messages.Especially not from the only person he feels like talking to.His last messages to Yuuri mock him, overly effusive and sharing too much of himself.

Yuuri.

He sighs and lets his phone slip from his hand and onto the bed, rolls onto his back and throws his arm over his face.He doesn’t know what to do.Yuuri said earlier that Viktor could never be boring- but as much as Viktor would like to think otherwise, Yuuri doesn’t really know him.Idolizes him, sure, but that’s almost worse than if they were total strangers at the banquet.Viktor Nikiforov, darling of the skating world, most eligible bachelor and consummate flirt, winner of hearts and gold medals- it’s not him, not really, just the person he pretends to be.He thinks maybe once, he was that person, preening in the spotlight and sleeping in someone else’s bed every night.Now it’s just a mask, one of many he rotates through on command.He’s not even sure which one is really him, anymore.

What would Yuuri think, if he saw Viktor lying listlessly in bed at seven pm, his whole life boiling down to skating, sleeping, skating, sleeping?Would he say that Viktor could never be boring if he knew the sad rut Viktor has fallen into?

Yuuri, though…Yuuri is more than just _not boring_ \- he’s more surprising than any person Viktor has ever met.One moment, he’ll be talking to Yuuri, quiet and shy and withdrawn, who Viktor has to coax out of his shell carefully or risk scaring him away.The next moment, Yuuri will suddenly change, to the man from the banquet and the bar, the one who pulled him up on stage to kiss him- _god_ , that kiss- without a hint of fear.And then back, without rhyme or reason or a hint of predictability.From short and restrained answers, to shooting back teasing flirtations, to asking Viktor if they can just be _friends_.Viktor has never been this off balance with another person before.

And he loves it.He loves that Yuuri surprises him, that he can never predict which Yuuri he will be talking to, or if a brand new Yuuri will erupt and send him reeling.But he hates it, too.Hates wondering what version of Viktor Yuuri wants to talk to at any given moment, hates that he keeps second guessing every text message he sends, wondering if this is the one that will cause Yuuri to withdraw completely.

He wants to let it all spill out.Tell Yuuri exactly what happened that night at the banquet, and later at karaoke- the way Yuuri was a whirlwind of excitement and beauty, the way Yuuri sang to him like he was the only person in the room, that _kiss_ …He wants to tell Yuuri that the twenty four hours from the start of the banquet to throwing Yuuri into a perfect quad flip were the best in his entire life.He wants to kiss Yuuri again, when they’re sober this time, and find out if the fireworks he remembers bursting in his chest will clear the fog in his head.

_Can we start over? Forget last night happened, and maybe just be friends?_

“I’m trying,” Viktor mumbles into his arm.

He never realized how few friends he has before Yuuri asked if he could be one.Sleeping with Yuuri- that would be easy, familiar actions with a new person.Friendship, though… he doesn’t know how to do that, doesn’t have a mask created for that exact scenario.And friendship with Yuuri, when something in his gut is telling him he _needs_ more, needs to hold onto this…

He has no idea how to do it.

He picks up his phone again and opens up Instagram.He should probably post something for his fans, but he doesn’t have the energy.He scrolls aimlessly instead, navigating on instinct over to Phichit’s page.

It’s not creepy to stalk one friend’s page just to catch a glimpse of his crush- his _friend_ \- is it?

Well, if it’s creepy, that doesn’t stop him.There are four new posts since the last time he checked: one of Phichit’s lunch at some cafe, a selfie of him in an empty apartment- and two with the person Viktor really wants to see.One of them is a selfie at an airport with Yuuri, Phichit, and one of their rinkmates Viktor barely recognizes, with the caption _“Everyone is leaving me :(“_ The other is from a few hours earlier, of Yuuri sprawled on a ratty couch, fast asleep.Phichit captioned it with _“Sleeping beauty,”_ and if Phichit hadn’t spent hours that day in Sochi trying to set Viktor and Yuuri up, Viktor would have thought Phichit had a crush on Yuuri as well.

Viktor stares at the picture of Yuuri sleeping, and after a moment of consideration, guiltily saves it to his phone.It’s not the first picture he’s saved from Phichit’s Instagram.He has a feeling that Phichit knows that, and is posting more about Yuuri for that very reason.

He glances at the time, then closes his eyes with a groan.It’s still only seven thirty.Still too early to go to sleep, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

His phone buzzes.An incoming call, not a message like he’d hoped.He cracks open his eyes to check who it is- and nearly drops his phone on his face.

Yuuri is calling him.

He sits up so quickly that the blood rushes from his head, leaving him dizzy- or maybe he’s just dizzy with excitement and confusion.In the past two weeks, they’d only ever texted each other, and sometimes barely even that.He can’t think why Yuuri might suddenly switch to a phone call.

He fumbles with the answer button and brings the phone to his ear.“Hello?” he says, and it comes out wavering and breathless.

Nobody answers.The call is connected- he can hear a rustling sound, someone breathing nearby, and maybe the faint sounds of a TV in the background, but no sign that Yuuri called him on purpose.

“Yuuri?” he tries again.Maybe it’s a butt dial.If Yuuri had Viktor’s text messages open, then it would be easy to accidentally-

“Viktor?”

Oh.Oh, shit.Yuuri sounds _awful_.

More rustling, and now Viktor can identify it as suppressed sobs, shaky and snotty.“Yuuri, what’s wrong?” Viktor asks,.

Yuuri sniffs wetly, and it would be gross to hear it so clearly if Viktor wasn’t so worried.“I’m- I’m fine,” Yuuri says hoarsely.

“Really?Because you sound like crap,” Viktor says bluntly.“What’s going on?”

“N-nothing,” Yuuri says.“I just… I wanted to hear your voice- oh, God, that’s so stupid, s-sorry.I’ll just hang up now-”

“Wait,” Viktor says desperately, clutching his phone tighter like that will keep Yuuri on the line.“Please, Yuuri, just tell me what’s wrong.”

Yuuri takes a deep, shuddering breath, and for a moment Viktor thinks he won’t say anything at all, will just hang up like nothing happened- but then the breath turns into a sob, and it’s like the first ominous crack in a dam.

“I-” Yuuri begins, stops, breathes.“I’m going to fail at nationals, I know it,” he says in a rush.

“What?” Viktor says.“You’re one of the top skaters in the world, how could you-”

“It was a fluke,” Yuuri says.He sounds so sure of himself, despite the wavering of his voice.“A stupid, ridiculous fluke, I never should have made it to the final in the first place- the field wasn’t deep, or something, I don’t know- and now I’m going to crash and burn in my own country and everyone is going to know what a fraud I am- there’s no way I can do well, I’ve tried and I’ve _tried_ but I can’t even do a run through of my free skate without falling on the easiest jumps-”

“Yuuri, calm down,” Viktor tries, but he isn’t sure if Yuuri even hears him.

“-and if I fail in nationals, I can’t go to Four Continents or Worlds and I’ll never be able to show my face to my coach or my hometown again-”

“ _Yuuri_.”

“-I’m such a failure, why did I think I could do this- skate on the same ice as you, what a _joke_ \- I’m- I’m not-”

His rambling panic stops, cut off not by Viktor but by his own heaving breath.Viktor clings harder to his phone, at a complete loss.Gerogi’s girlfriend Anya sometimes gets panic attacks like this- but whenever she does, Viktor always leaves all the comforting to Georgi, or literally anyone else in the room.He has no idea what to do.

“Breathe, Yuuri,” he tries, listening to the uneven hitch of Yuuri’s gasps.“You need to breathe.”

The phone crackles as Yuuri’s breath rushes across the mic, erratic at first but getting slower, more purposeful, with every second.

“Okay, good,” Viktor says encouragingly as Yuuri’s breathing approaches normal.“Better?”

“Not really,” Yuuri says, but he doesn’t sound a few seconds away from exploding, so Viktor treats it like a success.

“It’s okay, Yuuri, it really is,” Viktor tells him.“It’s just nationals, you’re going to do great.”

“No, I won’t,” Yuuri says bluntly.“I’m not like you, okay?I can’t just… _want_ something and it happens for me, I’ve never been good enough for the senior division-”He’s working himself up again, Viktor can hear it.

“ _Yuuri_ , calm down,” he says.

It only takes him an instant to realize that was absolutely the wrong thing to say.

“ _Stop saying that!_ ” Yuuri snaps.“I can’t just _calm down_ , okay?It’s not that easy- I _know_ that I’m weak, okay, I know that I shouldn’t be worried about this but I _can’t help it_ , I can’t just stop thinking like this, it’s not who I am-”

“I didn’t mean-” Viktor tries, then stops himself.God, he’s an idiot.What the hell is he supposed to say?“It took me four years to learn how to do the quad flip,” he blurts without thinking.

Yuuri chokes on his own rant.“What?”

Viktor clears his throat.At least it stopped Yuuri from yelling, but he isn’t sure why he said that.He doesn’t like telling people that he was working on the flip four years before he could land it.The press _loves_ hearing him talking about the quad flip like it’s nothing, like he can do it in his sleep.They spin stories about how he learned it on a whim, how he just woke up one day able to land the hardest jump anyone had ever done in figure skating.Even now, after he’s landed the quad loop and other skaters have gone even bigger to the quad lutz, the media calls the quad flip his signature jump, as if he was born to do it.

“I wanted to have it ready for the Turin Olympics,” he says.“So I worked at it all season, but I just… couldn’t get it.I could land it maybe one in twenty times out of the harness.So Yakov said no, and I kept working on it for the next season… but by then, it was kind of a block, you know?I couldn’t land it because I kept thinking I couldn’t land it- and that was back when Lambiel and Joubert were still beating me for gold more often than not, so Yakov told me to stop trying, and focus on perfecting my salchow instead.”

“What did you do?” Yuuri asks hoarsely.His breathing is still ragged and uneven, but it’s better than it was before.

Viktor swallows.“I stopped trying,” he confesses quietly.“I gave it up, and worked on my salchow and my step sequences and my spins… I _hated_ that I stopped working on it, but what could I do?I nearly broke my leg a few times trying it, and I did sprain my wrist and ankle a few times when I landed badly- so I stopped.”

“Until?”

“Until Lambiel announced he was coming back for the Vancouver Olympics, even with his injuries,” Viktor says.“I couldn’t- I _couldn’t_ \- just keep going like it was a regular season.I had to find something to surprise everybody, to steal gold out from all the favorites that year- and nobody had landed the flip yet, so…”He smiles a little, remembering the feeling of landing a quad flip cleanly for the first time, then getting it again and again until it felt like it was in his blood, like he could do it long after his muscles and bones gave out on him.“I didn’t tell Yakov I’d started working on it again,” he admits.“I worked on it when he was taking a break, or after hours at the rink.The first time he saw me land it was at the games, when I changed my free skate to include it.”

“The first ratified quad flip in competition,” Yuuri says, almost absently.Viktor can hear traces of hero worship in his voice, but there’s something else there, too, a warmth that he can’t identify.“You never told that story in interviews.”

Viktor hums, running a hand through his hair.“The press came up with their own story, and I liked the way it sounded,” he says.“It was nice to think of myself as a magical genius athlete, even if it wasn’t true.”

“So you aren’t perfect,” Yuuri murmurs, quiet enough that Viktor isn’t sure he was supposed to hear.

He gasps in mock offense.“Yuuri!How could you say such a thing?”

Yuuri chuckles, a little uncertain and breathy, but still.Viktor smiles and traces the ugly pattern on the hotel bedspread.

“We all fail sometimes, Yuuri,” he says quietly.“Some people are just better at pretending than others.”

“So you’re saying I should pretend I didn’t shame myself and my country at the GPF?” Yuuri says, a touch of scorn in his voice.

“I’m _saying_ that your jumps are shaky, but not because you can’t do them,” Viktor tells him.“I’ve seen you land them.But it’s a block, like it was for me.You keep thinking you won’t land them, and so you don’t.”

“I lack confidence,” Yuuri says.

Viktor frowns.“That’s not it,” he says, wishing he was as good at words as he was at skating.When he’s playing a part for the press or other skaters or even Yakov, he knows exactly what to say- but Yuuri is different.Yuuri is special.And Viktor can’t find the right words, in English, French, or Russian, to say what he needs to say.“You have plenty of confidence, Yuuri,” he continues, remembering the banquet.Confidence definitely hadn’t been an issue then.“You just think yourself into a corner.You tell yourself that you can’t do it, and then because you’re thinking it, you can’t.”

“Positive thinking?That’s your solution?”But he’s laughing a little, not angry and panicked anymore.

“When you’re not worrying about the crowds and the scores, you can beat me,” Viktor reminds him.A tremor of excitement buzzes through him- imagine, a competitor who could actually beat him.He hasn’t had that in a long, long time.“You can even do a quad flip!”

“That’s- only with you supporting me,” Yuuri blurts.

“Then when you skate, imagine I’m there with you,” Viktor says.He remembers, suddenly, Yuuri drunkenly clinging to him, asking him to be his coach.Maybe he can’t be a coach- maybe he wouldn’t be any good as a coach- but he can do this.He can help Yuuri find the mental strength he needs.“Just imagine we’re just messing around again, and you’re showing me your programs.”He pauses, heart pounding a little.“I really want to see you at your best, Yuuri,” he says quietly.“Will you show it to me?”

Yuuri stays quiet for a moment.Viktor wishes they weren’t just talking on the phone, that he could see Yuuri’s face, try to read him.It’s impossible to tell anything from the sound of Yuuri breathing, the rustling on something nearby.

“I’ll try,” Yuuri says finally.

Viktor’s shoulders sag in relief, though he doesn’t really know why.He falls back onto the bed, luxuriating in the softness of the mattress for the first time since he arrived at the hotel.

“So,” Yuuri says, in a conspicuously brighter voice.“Did you decide to change your free skate after all?”

Viktor sighs dramatically, letting Yuuri change the subject without protest.“No,” he laments.“You and Yakov win, I’m just going to be boring and uncreative.”He rolls onto his stomach and crosses his ankles, feeling like a teenage girl in an eighties movie.“The rules are so stifling,” he complains.“I wanted to do a program where each jumping pass gets another jump added to it, until the last one is a combo with six jumps on it-”

“ _Six jumps_?” Yuuri says, laughing.“Viktor, that’s insane.”

“It’s not like they’d all be quads!” Viktor protests.He can’t fight the grin spreading across his face.Yuuri’s laugh is infectious.He wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life.

“It’s literally impossible, even for you,” Yuuri tells him fondly.“You do realize you would end up with a program with twenty one jumps, right?”

“Huh?No, no, it would be…”Viktor trails off, thinking about it.He’d just thought it would be interesting artistically, but yeah, come to think of it…“Oh.”

Yuuri laughs again.Viktor suddenly feels a little lightheaded.“Maybe for an exhibition, or an ice show,” Yuuri tells him.“Unless you’re not planning on doing any this year.”

“No, I love doing ice shows,” Viktor says, then brightens.“Oh!We should do an ice show together and show off our pairs skating skills!”

“What skills?” Yuuri says.“We couldn’t even get a spin right.”

Viktor waves a hand dismissively, then remembers that Yuuri can’t see him.“But it would be surprising,” he says.

Yuuri hums.“It would be that,” he concedes with a smile in his voice.“Okay, let’s do it- not pairs skating, just- an ice show.I’ll do an ice show with you.”

“Really?” Viktor says, sitting up again.He has no idea if Yuuri is serious- the note of amusement in his tone makes Viktor think he might just be humoring him- but he’ll take it.“We should do one in Russia, then- that way you can meet my Makkachin!”

“Sounds like a good reason,” Yuuri says.“I would love to meet Makkachin.”

“He’s a good dog,” Viktor agrees.He settles back against the pillows, getting comfortable.“I didn’t think I liked dogs before I got him- but then he followed me home one day after practice, just a little puppy in the middle of winter-”

“-and you couldn’t find his owner, so you adopted him, right?” Yuuri says.

Viktor pauses.He really should stop being surprised when Yuuri knows his stories already, from interviews and press conferences.He just hadn’t thought that particular interview had been translated into any languages other than Russian.

“I- I, um,” Yuuri says, apparently realizing what he just said.“I remember reading about it.I.I- I got Vicchan because of the picture of Makkachin.He looked so happy, and I- uh-”

Viktor can’t see him, but he has a feeling that Yuuri might be blushing.The adorable blush that makes his eyes sparkle even more than usual, contrasted against the pretty pink of his cheeks.“Makka has that effect on people,” Viktor says with a smile.

“Mm,” Yuuri hums.Something rustles in the background of the call, like Yuuri is settling deeper into a cushion.

Viktor doesn’t say anything, just listens to the sound of Yuuri breathing.It’s even now, slow and calm, and surprisingly soothing to listen to.Maybe it’s the contrast between Yuuri’s panic earlier, and his ease now.Yuuri doesn’t say anything either, content to let the silence stretch out, comfortable and warm.

Viktor doesn’t think friends usually sit around and listen to each other breathe, but.Well.It’s nice, anyway.

“Viktor?” Yuuri says eventually.

Viktor opens his eyes- he hadn’t even realized they’d closed.“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He smiles.“Anytime, солнышко,” he murmurs.

There’s more rustling on Yuuri’s side.“I should go,” he says, and Viktor feels warm at the note of reluctance in his voice.“It’s late, and I have the short program tomorrow.”

“Of course.Sleep well, Yuuri.”

“Goodnight Viktor,” Yuuri breathes, and the call cuts out.

Viktor pulls the phone away from his ear slowly.He glances at the time stamp- they’d talked for nearly an hour.He doesn’t remember the last time he talked with someone for that long, unless it was Yakov critiquing his technique, or a reporter asking invasive questions he didn’t want to answer.

He closes his eyes, not bothering to change his clothes or getting under the covers.His last thought before he falls asleep is of Yuuri’s laugh, and Yuuri’s voice murmuring his name.

* * *

  

> **Viktor  
>  ** Breathe, Yuuri  
>  It’s just you, me, and the ice
> 
> **Me  
>  ** Okay  
>  Keep your eyes on me, Viktor

“I can take your phone, Yuuri.”

Yuuri turns his phone over in his hands, hesitating to pass it over to Assistant Coach Kestin.Viktor hasn’t texted back yet- _of course_ he hasn’t, Yuuri only sent the text a few minutes ago, and Viktor is probably at practice.But still, Yuuri can’t bear to let it go yet.

“Yuuri?”

He glances over at Coach Kestin.She looks concerned, and he hates that.It would have been so much better if Celestino could have come, but he had three skaters with nationals all around the same time, and Yuuri had to be the self-sacrificing idiot who said he could make do without Celestino there.Coach Kestin is perfectly nice, but she has a habit of treating Yuuri like a porcelain doll who might shatter at any second, and that usually makes Yuuri feel even more nervous than he already does.

“One- one second,” Yuuri says, opening his messaging app like that will magically summon a response from Viktor.It doesn’t.

Coach Kestin sighs.“Phichit is a terrible influence,” she laments.“You’re due to skate in less than two minutes-”

His phone buzzes with an incoming message.

If she says anything else after that, he doesn’t hear.He opens the message with trembling fingers.What on earth possessed him to send a message like that to Viktor anyway?Viktor has his own life- his own _competition_ that he should be focusing on, he doesn’t have the time to sit and watch Yuuri skate.He probably doesn’t even want to watch Yuuri skate, he was just being polite when-

> **Viktor  
>  ** I could never look away

He thinks he might be floating.

“Here,” he says, passing his phone to Coach Kestin.She looks surprised, as if she expected him to hold onto it through his entire free skate.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

He nods as he unzips his jacket.The skater before him, some kid with a bright red streak in his hair and big awestruck eyes, is just hitting his ending pose and waving to the cheering crowd.In just a moment, it’ll be Yuuri’s turn to skate- the same program where he imploded in Sochi, that he hasn’t been able to skate cleanly since.His hands start shaking again.

Well, the floating elation was nice while it lasted.

Coach Kestin notices the return of his nerves.“It’s going to be fine,” she tells him, well-meaning but a little bit too much like a parent talking to a toddler to put Yuuri at ease.“You’re not in a bad position, and you can easily outscore the rest of these kids.You just need to focus, alright?”

He nods again.He bends down to take off his guards and steps onto the ice.The cheers from the audience are too loud, the roar of a large predator about to swallow him whole.

_I really want to see you at your best, Yuuri.Will you show it to me?_

He takes a deep breath. _Focus, focus, focus_.He can’t fail now, not with Viktor’s eyes on him.

Distantly, he hears his name announced, the cheering of the crowd getting louder.The noise comes in and out, like there’s a loose connection in the path between his ears and his brain.The only sound he can hear clearly is the quickening thud of his own heartbeat.

He gets into position at center ice.The crowd quiets, thankfully, and then there’s another sound- his music.His stomach lurches at the familiar opening notes.Suddenly, he’s back in Sochi, bloated and grieving and two second away from bursting into tears right on the ice-

 _No_ , dammit.

He begins to move, syrupy and slow with the repetitive notes of the piano.Celestino picked this music because he said it fit Yuuri’s innocent image, even as a somewhat older skater- but Yuuri always thought it sounded less innocent, and more mournful.Yearning for something that could never be, to fly high enough that he might maybe, just maybe, be seen.

 _I could never look away_.

He moves into his first set of spins, a sit spin into a scratch.Viktor said Yuuri was better at spins that he was- _Yuuri_ , a dime-a-dozen skater who finished the GPF a hundred points behind him.And yet it feels true, right now in this moment, with this music of impossible hopes filling him.If Viktor thinks that he can do this, then who is he to argue?

A spiral into a step sequence now, faster than the choreographic sequence at the beginning, but smooth, graceful still.If he keeps his eyes unfocused, he can almost see Viktor standing at the edge of the ice, watching him with a smile on his face.The image wobbles- his first jumping pass is coming up, a triple axel-triple to combo, the first jump he fell on in Sochi.he builds up the speed for it, the roaring in his ears coming back, obscuring the music-

_You’re so worried about falling that you tense up, which then makes you fall._

He forces his shoulders to relax, forces himself to listen to the crescendo of the piano that will lead him into his jumps.He leaps into the air- triple axel, counts the rotations in his head, one, two, three, and a half- lands it, launches into a triple toe.Three more rotations, then his foot hits the ice with a deep, reassuring edge.

He did it.He landed his first jumps.

He’s so startled that his free leg wobbles, setting him a little off balance- but the music catches him again, familiar and soothing.He’d forgotten what it felt like to do that, to get a jump right.He’d forgotten- but his body knows what to do even when his head doesn’t.

That’s right.He’s been doing this his whole life.One bad performance doesn’t erase that.Even when he feels unsure, he can still trust the music to guide him, trust his body to catch him- and now, he can trust Viktor to watch him.

Another jumping pass- quad toe.He touches down on the exit, but pulls through smoothly.He can do this.

Choreographic sequence, and another jumping pass.He doesn’t hesitate now, launching himself into the air without fear.

The music crescendos further, building from the wistful, dreamlike melody into a joyful tune like the endless movement of the wind.He lets it pull him along into his next combination spin, camel into a Biellmann.He smiles, remembering the look on Viktor’s face when he did this spin in their little competition.

The music slows, wistful again as the opportunity passes by.But he’s still here, still hoping and wishing, wanting to glide across the ice with his idol’s eyes on him, always on him.They aren’t even in the same country, but Yuuri can feel it, the weight of Viktor’s gaze as he moves into his final step sequence, his final jumping passes.

Quad Salchow-double toe.He hasn’t landed this one at any of his competitions this season, barely lands it in practice- he closes his eyes as he makes his approach, remembering Viktor’s hands on his waist, supporting him as they turned.Viktor’s hands guiding him- throwing him- ready to catch him if he stumbles-

He lands the jump perfectly.

The music is winding down, dreamlike and sad.Longing, that’s what his theme is this season.He feels it deep in his bones now, more deeply than he’s ever felt it.Longing- he doesn’t let himself think what for, but he feels it all the same.

One more jump, one more spin.He goes into the triple lutz and knows it’s off before he even touches down, but it’s alright, no one ever reached for something without stumbling once or twice.He doesn’t fall to the ice completely, manages to catch his balance- barely.He breathes deeply, carries the music with him into his last spin, one last wish.

He finishes the program with his hands lifted up, reaching, reaching, _reaching_.

> **Viktor  
>  ** Congratulations on winning gold!  
>  See you at Worlds
> 
> **Me  
>  ** Thank you for everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild plot appears! The canon divergence grows more divergent! Yuuri is painfully oblivious!
> 
> Plot bunny for the comedy of errors with Phichit came from [here](http://codenamecesare.tumblr.com/post/161648933651/dont-stop-make-it-pop-viktuuri), but this probably won't follow that post very closely
> 
> I used [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_-CU7JkA3Y) for Yuuri's free skate

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me about yoi on [my tumblr](http://deathbycoldopen.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
